


Becoming Mrs Malfoy

by Rumaan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Curses, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Not Epilogue Compliant, Romance, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 102,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumaan/pseuds/Rumaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A curse has been revealed affecting both Gryffindor and Slytherin. The Ministry of Magic has to act and enforces a marriage law. Hermione is paired with Malfoy but the Ministry will have to drag her dead body up the aisle before she marries him EWE AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked to write this from a reader at another site. The criteria I was given are as follows:  
> Marriage law.  
> Harry is secretly dating Daphne Greengrass.  
> Harry is secretly friends with Draco.
> 
> This story contains an extremely stubborn and OOC Hermione for at least the first 10 or so chapters. This is so I could meet the criteria of Harry secretly dating Daphne and being friends with Draco. She was also pretty fun to write this way too. It's always Hermione who is the grown up one so I enjoyed writing her a different way. She does get better so please bear with her.
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is written for fun and not profit. I think it's pretty obvious I'm not JK Rowling. This disclaimer stands for all the chapters posted.
> 
> Many thanks to swirlsofblack from Hawthorn and Vine who did such a tremendous job in betaing this.

Hermione stormed out of Harry and Ron’s Floo connection in a rage. Harry could practically see the steam pouring out of her ears and Ron swore that her hair took on a life of its own, looking almost like Medusa’s snakes. 

“Have you seen this?!” Hermione yelled.

Harry winced. He hadn’t had his coffee yet, and Hermione at full volume was never something you should have to deal with unless you’d had your morning caffeine. 

“Good morning to you too, my sweetness,” Ron said ironically.

Hermione just glared at him, not in the mood to be distracted by his irritating asides right now. “Well, have you seen this?” she screeched once more, waving a letter around like a demented person.

Harry just put his hand out and beckoned for her to give it to him. He’d get no peace -- and more importantly, no coffee -- until she’d shared what had her so mad this morning. Harry opened the scrunched-up parchment.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_We regret to inform you of a curse that has been placed on students from Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses. In order to combat this curse, we have had to take extreme measures, which, however distasteful, are necessary. We have had to pair all Gryffindor students with Slytherin partners where available. We have undertaken rigorous personality checks to at least try to pair you with compatible matches._

_We therefore notify you that your match is Draco Malfoy._

_We cordially invite you to come to a meeting on Thursday, 27 October, where more about the curse will be revealed, and you will get to reacquaint yourself with your future spouse._

_Yours sincerely,_  
Hestia Jones  
Minister of Magic 

Harry passed the letter over to Ron. “It could be worse, Hermione.”

Hermione raised her wand in threat against him. “How exactly could it be worse, Harry James Potter? First off, what curse is this? And secondly, _Malfoy?_ They’ll have to drag my dead body up the aisle before I agree to this.”

Harry ignored Hermione’s brandished wand, knowing full well that she wouldn’t really hex him; she was just very worked up. “You could have gotten Goyle or that oral disaster, Flint.”

Hermione huffed, “I think I’d take my chances with either of them over that bloody ferret. Pairing us up with Slytherins is evil. How could they do this to us?”

Ron, who’d been keeping strategically quiet up to this point, couldn’t help himself and leapt in with one of his witticisms. “Think of all those cute little albino ferret cubs you’ll have. Are baby ferrets called cubs?” he asked, getting distracted.

Harry didn’t know how he managed to do it, but he manfully suppressed the laugh that was dying to explode from his chest, gave Ron a look that clearly asked if he had a death wish, and watched as Hermione struggled to speak through her anger. 

“Oh no, I believe baby ferrets are called kits. I look forward to playing uncle to your litter of kits, Hermione,” Ron continued, clearly not taking Harry’s warning into account.

“I’m glad you find this amusing, Ronald, but some us remember the true nature of the Slytherins and do not find it funny that we are now expected to marry them,” Hermione said, throwing her hands up in the air before storming out of Ron and Harry’s kitchen in the same manner she entered it.

“I think she may be rather upset at who she was paired with,” Ron pointed out sarcastically. 

Harry shook his head at his red-headed friend. “We’ll give her an hour to calm down, and then we’ll go over and attempt to make her feel better.”

\----------

An hour later and Hermione was still as upset. She’d pretty much paced a hole into her carpet and was stomping up and down, pulling at her hair when Ron and Harry arrived to see how she was doing.

“Want to see who we’ve landed?” Harry asked as an opener, hoping that her curiosity would overcome her extreme rage.

“I hope, _Ronald_ , that you have Millicent Bulstrode,” Hermione said nastily. 

Ron just quirked an eyebrow, “Sadly, well, for you anyway, I’ve been drawn with Tracey Davis. I can’t say that I really remember her. Any memories you can share, Hermione?”

“Errr, nope, sorry,” Hermione said, her anger abating briefly in order to answer the question. “What about you, Harry?”

“I’ve been paired with Daphne Greengrass,” Harry said carelessly. 

“Oh! I assumed that one of you would get Pansy Parkinson. I wonder who they’ve landed with the pug.”

“Dunno, but the meeting is only a few days away, guess we’ll get the gossip then,” Ron pointed out.

“Oooh, the Ministry won’t be waiting until then to hear what I have to say. I can’t believe that they’ve done this to us and then given me that coward of a Death Eater to boot. I’ll make Hestia see how bad an idea this truly is.”

Harry sighed, recognising the signs of Hermione working herself up into a magnificent anti-Slytherin rant. “It’s a curse, Hermione. I’m sure that Hestia didn’t find herself bored last week and decide that this would shake up the monotony of her job.”

“It’s eight years since we left Hogwarts; how come we’re just hearing about this curse now?”

“I don’t know; I don’t have special insight into the workings of the Ministry.”

“You and Ron are Aurors. Why haven’t they spoken to you about this?”

Harry ran his fingers through his already messy hair in exasperation. Hermione was nigh on impossible when she worked herself up like this. “Dunno and, no, before you even think it, I’m not going to play the ‘I’m Harry Potter and therefore special’ card just so you can find out what is going on. Besides, Hestia never falls for that even when I am stupid enough to let you talk me into playing it.” 

Hermione realised that Harry wasn’t going to bow to her desire for information this time and released her anger with a big sigh and collapsed onto her sofa. “Has anyone spoken to Ginny? Any clue who she has?” Hermione asked.

“She’s away at a Harpies training camp. They’re meant to be incommunicado as their first game of the season is on Halloween, but I suppose the Ministry will have pulled their weight and will make sure that she attends the meeting,” Ron answered.

Ginny had gone on to play professional Quidditch for the Holyhead Harpies much to the consternation of her Quidditch-crazy brothers, none of whom had been offered even a trial with a professional club, let alone a contract. Ron had been particularly put out but was soon comforted by the fact that he got free tickets to Quidditch games and had even supported his sister’s team over his much beloved Chudley Cannons. 

“I have to marry Malfoy! What am I going to do?” Hermione asked with a wail.

Harry and Ron shared a look before they sat next to Hermione and put their arms around her. “Come on, Hermione; it can’t be that bad. The letter said they’d done personality tests, so maybe you guys are more compatible than you think,” Harry said optimistically.

“Who are you and what have you done with Harry?” 

“Harry’s right. Hestia wouldn’t screw you on purpose, Hermione,” Ron remarked. “Maybe you need to give him a chance. He might have changed.”

“What’s wrong with you two? You hate Malfoy more than I do. Or at least, you used to.”

“We’re not at school anymore. We’ve had to work with people who we wouldn’t have given the time of day back then. I mean who’d have thought that I’d be partnered up with Adrian Pucey and that we’d actually get on?” Ron pointed out. “You just haven’t because you work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”

“That pretty much proves my point and is hardly a huge endorsement for highlighting how much the Slytherins have changed.”

Ron screwed up his face as he tried to think of a way to counter Hermione’s argument but, as usual, he was stumped. The girl was far too smart for her own good. 

“Try and put a positive spin on it, Hermione. The Ministry wouldn’t be making us do this without good reason,” Harry reasoned.

Hermione looked thoughtfully for a minute. She seemed to be murmuring a little to herself. Harry recognised this as Hermione thinking something through before revealing to him and Ron. “Hang on a minute,” Hermione said and pulled her crumpled-up letter out from behind a sofa cushion. “Look, the letter says they have had to pair us up but it doesn’t say that we have to marry them. I’ll just refuse. What’s the worst they can do? Threaten to kick me out of the magical world? I’d like to see them try,” Hermione crowed, feeling triumphant at having found a loop-hole.

“I don’t know, Hermione, they speak about a curse. I’m sure that pretty much indicates that we have little choice in the matter.”

“So, it’s a curse. I’m sure with a little bit of research we can find out what it is, and, with Bill’s help, we can break it. I really think the Ministry has overreacted.”

Harry and Ron watched as Hermione flew around her living room pulling out random books from her many bookcases and flinging them onto the coffee table. “I’ll get a head start and do some general research before the meeting later this week.”

They shook their heads but knew better than to try and interrupt her mid-thought. “Hey, Ron, is Bill back from Egypt yet? I’d like to meet with him before the meeting to see what I can glean. I bet he’s heard something about this curse.” 

“Er, I’m not sure. I’ve not really been home for a while but I can owl mum and Fleur and see if he’s back yet.”

“Yes, I’d be grateful if you could owl home.”

Hermione has seemingly pulled out all the books she had on curses and was now flicking through a couple of volumes at the same time while muttering to herself. Harry and Ron knew better than to even bother saying goodbye as they traveled by Floo back to their flat. She’d be more annoyed that they’d interrupted her than she would if they said a proper goodbye. It would be hours before she’d noticed that they’d left.

\----------

They collapsed back in their kitchen, and Harry made them both a cup of tea, feeling that they needed it after dealing with a manic Hermione that morning. She was getting worse with her discrimination against the Slytherins. Harry and Ron didn’t quite know how to help her get past it. She had always been the sane, rational one at school but she’d seemingly switched at some point during the war, and it had left her vengeful and full of hate.

“So when are you planning on telling her?” Ron asked.

Harry grimaced. “I don’t know. I’d hoped to ease her into it but I guess I’d better just drop it on her before she finds out from someone else at the meeting.”

Ron sniggered at his distressed friend, “I don’t envy you mate, and I’d definitely pick a public place just in case she completely loses it.”

“Daphne’s going to be unbearable, too. She’s been nagging me for ages to tell Hermione about us. She wants to go public, and the fact that I’ve been dragging my heels about Hermione is driving her crazy.”

“I don’t know why she puts up with you. She’s far too classy for a slob like you.”

“Hey, you’re meant to be feeling sorry for me, not making me feel worse.”

“What’s there to feel sorry about? You’ve got a gorgeous girl who loves you and you’re too much of a wuss to tell your other best friend about her. You’re just lucky she hasn’t dumped your pathetic arse.”

Harry banged his head on the table, “I know. I’m a complete wimp. But Hermione is so scary when she’s angry, and she hates Slytherins. I didn’t think it was possible, but her hatred has escalated the longer we’ve been graduated.”

“She does campaign to free house-elves. That’s hardly a profession that’s going to make her feel all cuddly regarding the House of Snakes.”

“Well, when are you going to tell her that you’ve been sneaking off to play Quidditch with your reptilian friends? She thinks you just tolerate Pucey, not that you’re good friends that socialise on the weekend.”

“How did we get into this mess?” Ron groaned.

“We let our guard down, and the next thing you know, we’re dating and hanging out with a bunch of Slytherins.”

“And lying to Hermione about it. We really do have a death wish.”

“Yep, and that’s without her knowing about us burying the hatchet with Draco.”

“Oh, we should go and see him. I’m curious about his reaction to his letter.” Ron said, bouncing out of his seat in excitement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a complete whim whilst writing this chapter, I went with a Narcissa/Snape pairing.

Draco Malfoy was relaxing in his library, contemplating fate. If anyone had told him a decade ago that he’d be ordered by the Ministry of Magic to marry Hermione Granger, he’d have hexed them and then owled his father to throw a tantrum until Lucius agreed to get it changed. Now, he didn’t have that luxury. His father had died not long after receiving the Dementor’s kiss in Azkaban and he, himself, had had to undergo an intensive rehabilitation programme that saw him forced to live in the Muggle world for a year. It had done wonders for his attitude. He’d reappeared in wizarding society to find it much changed. Several friends and Slytherin contemporaries were now working for the formerly much-reviled Ministry and had even befriended former Gryffindor rivals. It’d taken him a while longer to get fully on board, and he’d sneered and mocked Adrian for his new friend choice in Ron Weasley. He’d finally cracked when Daphne Greengrass started dating Harry Potter. Around a year ago, she’d finally grown tired of his nasty comments, and she refused to listen to his rants about how disgusting their relationship was and threatened to cut him out of her life if he didn’t accept it. She’d been ably backed up by Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott. Faced with losing his close friends, he’d had to bite his tongue and even agreed to meet Potter to make Daphne happy. Never in a million a years did he imagine that he’d actually get on with the suicidal martyr and his ginger-haired side-kick. Hell hadn’t actually frozen over, but it was a close-run thing. 

Severus Snape walked into the library. “You have visitors,” he sneered at the last word, making Draco pretty sure he knew who had come to see him. One of the most surprising things to happen after the war was the marriage of Severus Snape to Narcissa Malfoy. Draco had been knocked for six when they’d approached him about their relationship and the fact that they’d had forbidden feelings for each other for years. This was one change that hadn’t taken Draco long to get his head around. His mum deserved to be happy and so did Severus, who had to play a double role for so long that he’d begun to lose who he was in the first place. Severus was never going to be a doting stepfather, but then again, after nineteen years of Lucius, Draco didn’t exactly want or need a doting dad. 

“Potter and Weasley?” Draco asked.

“How you put up with those dunderheads, I don’t know. They house a brain cell between them,” Severus snarked.

Draco smiled at his stepfather and shook his head. Some things never changed. No matter how in love he was with Narcissa, Severus could never like Harry Potter purely because of what his father had done, including marrying Lily Evans. Severus’ feelings for Lily were a pale, teenage comparison to those he held for Narcissa, but he hadn’t been the head of Slytherin House for no reason. Slytherins held grudges and never forgot that which had been taken from them. 

“They do my ego wonders. I feel like a veritable genius around them.”

“Good job Granger’s been chosen as the next Malfoy wife, then. Spending time with her will soon make you realise that you barely scrape the barrel in the brains department,” Severus said bitingly. 

“Doesn’t say much for your talents in nurturing intelligence then,” Draco hit back, knowing that Severus was proud that Draco had been third in his year behind Granger and Padma Patil.

\-----------

Draco strolled into the parlour and laughed at the sight of Harry and Ron looking ill-at-ease surrounded by all the Malfoy splendour. “How many times have the pair of you been here and you still can’t relax?”

“Can’t help it, mate,” Ron said. “It’s just not natural for a Weasley to be so deep in the lair of the Malfoys.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my ancestors from attempting to kill you from their portraits in case they spot that atrocity of a colour you call your hair.”

“Ha bloody ha, ferret face.”

Draco put his hand over his heart and perfected a wounded look. “Oh, Weasel, you slay me with your unkindness.”

“Knock it off you two. You’re driving me nuts. Hermione’s already given me a headache today.”

“Ahhh, speaking of my lovely little wife-to-be, how did she take the news?”

“About as well as you would have done back in our fifth-year at Hogwarts.”

“Yep; if I were you, Draco, I’d make sure I practiced shield charms before you turn up to that meeting on Thursday. I wouldn’t put it past her to curse you on sight.”

“At least she has the Malfoy spirit in maiming without warning,” Draco drawled.

“How are you taking the news?” Harry asked Draco.

“Pretty well. If I can’t have you, darling Harry, then I guess I’ll settle for the Gryffindor Princess,” Draco teased. 

Harry turned green and gagged at the thought of the snarky blond harbouring a secret crush on him.

“Lay off my boyfriend, you snake,” Daphne said as she entered the room. “You don’t need to look so pale, sweetie, Draco was only messing with you.”

“I knew that,” Harry said, but his attempt to brazen it out was ruined by how shaky his voice was. Draco rolled his eyes. For someone who had saved the wizarding world, the Boy Who Lived wasn’t the smartest tool in the box. 

She made her way over to Harry and kissed him before making Ron move so she could sit next to him. “I think Theo may well be on his way over to hit you for your luck. I believe his first stop was Blaise.”

“What’s got Nott’s knickers in a twist?” Draco asked.

“He’s pissed because the pair of you, and I quote, ‘got the best girls in Gryffindor, leaving me with the dregs’. They matched him up with Lavender Brown.” The three boys winced in sympathy.

Ron scratched his head, trying to work out who was the other girl in Gryffindor that Theo would have preferred. “So who did Zabini get to make Nott so jealous?” he asked, making Draco and Harry swap amused glances.

“I believe he’s been matched with your sister, Ron. Blaise’s reaction was the most emotion I’ve ever seen him display,” Daphne informed him.

Ron went green at the thought of Ginny being considered a pretty bone for the Slytherins to fight over. He’d only just got over Harry dating her briefly, and that was because Harry was his best friend and had been pretty clueless when it came to girls at eighteen.

“Blaise always did have a thing for the Weaselette. I remember him trying to deny his attraction to her during our sixth-year,” Draco remarked. “Pansy wasn’t impressed.”

“Whereas I’m sure you were super supportive,” Daphne said dryly.

“Please stop; that’s my sister. I don’t want to think of her being attractive to anyone, let alone a Romeo like Zabini.”

“At least I’ll know how to please her. I pity Tracey Davis,” Blaise mocked as he joined his friends. The tall, dark Slytherin was dragging a rather pitiful Theo Nott behind him. “I think Severus is going to poison us all. He was muttering about gangs of feral wizards polluting his house after pointing me in your direction.”

“No, that’ll just be the presence of Potter and Weasley. Don’t take any drink you may be offered, guys,” Draco teased. “By the way, I believe congratulations are in order for finally getting the opportunity to get your mitts on the delectable red-headed She-Weasel,” Draco said to his impassive friend.

Ron went purple. “Hello, that’s my _sister_ ,” he huffed. The handsome Slytherins chose to ignore him.

“Same to you too,” Blaise drawled back. “Although, you may want to do something about that nest of hair, I’m worried that it’s going to take over the world and implement a new dictatorship that would’ve made Voldemort look soft and fluffy.”

The two Gryffindor boys spluttered at the banter. Blaise raised his eyebrows at the shock on Ron and Harry’s faces. “You mean the pair of you weren’t aware of the immense crush Malfoy here has been harbouring for your little lioness since time began?”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised, Blaise, it would mean that they’d actually have to think in order to work it out. We all know Granger is the brains,” Theo remarked.

“Ah yes, silly me for forgetting.”

Daphne soothed her increasingly irate boyfriend and stroked his hand, “Don’t let them push your buttons, darling. You know Gryffindor-baiting is their favourite pastime.”

“Doesn’t make it any less infuriating,” Harry growled. “And what’s this, Draco? You have a thing for Hermione?”

Daphne laughed. “You’ll never get him to admit it. We’ve had a bet going on in Slytherin since the Yule Ball in fourth-year as to when Draco will finally confess. Before, he’d never dare admit to having feelings for, what did you use to call her so charmingly, Draco, ‘a filthy little Mudblood’? Now, he’s too stubborn to admit that he’s in love with a woman who’ll never look his way unless it’s to physically and emotionally harm him.”

“Yes, yes, let’s all laugh at Draco Malfoy and make up untruths about him. How many times do I have to stress to you knuckleheads that I don’t have any feelings for Granger? She’s mental and doesn’t appear to own a hairbrush,” Draco said irritably.

“He always protests but I’ve seen the photo he keeps of her under his bed,” Theo joked to the baffled Gryffindors.

Draco threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Just remember whose house you are in and that you’re all still scared of my stepfather,” he said, looking around at all of them. “I won’t hesitate to get him to poison you all in the most painful way possible.”

“Still getting Snape to fight your battles, then?” Harry mocked and then wished he hadn’t when Draco wandlessly hit him with a rather painful stinging hex.

“Severus has more than a few uses. Getting him to tutor me privately on wandless magic is one of them,” Draco said.

Daphne decided to step in and calm the volatile atmosphere. No matter how well they may get on, it didn’t mean they still didn’t enjoy flinging hexes at each other. They claimed it was for 'old times’ sake,' but Daphne felt that, when the five of them got together, there was altogether way too much testosterone flying about for someone not to get itchy with his wand hand – or in Draco’s case, show off his new wandless magic ability.

“Anyone heard from Pansy?” Theo asked.

There was embarrassed shuffling. Pansy hadn’t taken to the new wizarding world hierarchy too well. She’d found it difficult to cope from going from a society at which she was towards the top to suddenly being considered scum for wanting to hand Harry Potter over to the Dark Lord. She’d tried in vain to go along with the new structure but had failed miserably and escaped by accepting a job to teach at Durmstrang, where purebloods were still considered better than others. 

“No,” Daphne replied. “We exchanged owls a few times, but when I told her I was dating Harry, she didn’t reply. I think she got freaked out and couldn’t cope with it.”

“I still think she needs help. She should attend some of those counselling sessions the Ministry have set up to help the community deal with their problems in coming to terms with what happened,” Theo said.

“George did that to help him get over Fred’s death. The sessions were great and he’s full of praise for the whole initiative now. I believe Hestia has employed him to speak to those who are unsure of what it can offer,” Ron remarked.

Draco shook his head sadly; he felt the guiltiest over Pansy’s struggles. He knew that she would never have felt as strongly as she did about Potter and blood purity if she hadn’t been in love with him throughout Hogwarts and swallowed all the crap he’d repeated verbatim from his father. “I went out to see her over Christmas. She seemed happy at least. She still wasn’t seeing anyone but she seemed to have started to move on with her life.”

Blaise patted Draco on the back, they all knew that Pansy had harboured ideas of marrying Draco for years and had stubbornly refused to see that the blond didn’t return her feelings. “I guess we’ll see her at this meeting.”

“Speaking of awkward friends who are failing to move with the times, when are you going to tell Hermione about dating our Daphne here?” Theo asked.

Harry cringed at the question and at the three tall Slytherins who banded together like a bunch of older brothers and shot him identical glares. “I was thinking before the meeting. I know I will never be able to pretend that Daphne and I mean nothing to each other on Thursday and it also isn’t fair to Daphne to keep our relationship hidden.”

“Are you sure, mate? Hermione was certifiably mental today. I highly doubt that she will have calmed down by Thursday. Do you want to add that the fact that you’ve been lying to her into the mix?” Ron asked.

The three Slytherin males scowled their disapproval at Ron’s encouragement to keep Daphne a dirty little secret. They’d only put up with Harry’s cowardly attitude to his crazy-haired friend because Daphne had begged them not to interfere. But it had been years now and the cowardly Chosen One was still dragging his feet, reluctant to tell Granger about his long-term girlfriend.

Harry frowned at Ron, “No, this has gone on for long enough. I have to stop trying to pander to Hermione’s anti-Slytherin agenda and tell her the truth.”

Daphne squealed and hugged Harry. She pretended for ages that it didn’t matter that Harry was too afraid to confess to his best friend that he was seeing her, but deep down she’d wondered if she wasn’t just a passing fancy, which would be why Harry couldn’t be bothered to rock the boat with Hermione. “Oh, Harry, do you mean it?”

“Of course I do, sweetie. I was thinking I could meet with Hermione in Diagon Alley tomorrow, butter her up by letting her browse in Flourish and Blotts for a couple hours, tell her, and then drag her to meet you in the Leaky Cauldron.”

Daphne nodded her agreement to the plan, and her Slytherin brothers were pleased to see her beaming from ear to ear. She may have put a brave face on in front of them, but they weren’t stupid, and she couldn’t hide her feelings that successfully from her fellow snakes. A stupid Gryffindor was easy enough to fob off with a poker face but not the boys she’d grown up with. 

“Hey, Blaise, fancy dropping in to the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow? I think there may well be a firework display,” Theo said with a devilish grin. 

Harry paled at the difficult task ahead of him.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione hugged Harry as they met outside of Flourish and Blotts. His owl had come at exactly the right time for her, pulling her out her rage-induced sulk and forcing her to get her act together. Even research hadn’t focused her mind, which was highly unusual. She’d allowed Draco Malfoy to ruin far too many days in her life, and staying cooped up in her front room stewing at the unfairness of fate was doing her no favours at all. She’d been pleased to reply positively to Harry’s plan for them to spend the afternoon together and was looking forward to a relaxed few hours with no drama and, more importantly, no thinking of nasty, slimy Slytherins.

Hermione grinned as she left the bookshop with the latest haul of books to add to her already too-large collection. Harry couldn’t help but think that it was a good thing she’d been paired off with Malfoy. At the least, the Manor had more than enough space for the thousands of books Hermione was bound to buy during her lifetime. Her flat was already comprised of too many bookshelves that were stacked to their breaking points, and she still had piles all over the floor. Hermione would also be in heaven amongst the dusty tomes that made up the Malfoy library. He wisely kept this perk to himself, not wanting to rile her up before he dropped his bombshell on her.

“I’ve missed days like this,” Hermione said. “It seems these days all we do is work and look to heal the scars of the war.”

Harry beamed at Hermione’s current carefree expression. All too often, she was running around frowning, trying to fix the woes of the world. Harry and Ron, despite being Aurors and responsible for rounding up any remaining Death Eaters, enjoyed life a lot more than their serious friend. She could do with enjoying life much more than she did. Harry bought them a round of butterbeers, and they chatted casually about this and that.

Harry saw Theo and Blaise stroll in and realised that he better get a move on if he wanted to tell Hermione about his relationship with Daphne. He didn’t want Daphne coming in, presuming that he’d already told her, kissing him, and sitting down with them. That would surely cause Hermione to spontaneously combust. “Hermione, I have something I need to tell you.”

“Look at them! They walk in here like they own the place. I wish you’d lock them up, Harry, where I wouldn’t have to see their hideous faces anymore,” Hermione ranted.

Harry sighed; all the camaraderie had disappeared, and Hermione’s angry face was back. He hadn’t even gotten around to telling her about Daphne yet. “Hermione, we’ve been through this a million times before. I can’t just go around throwing people in Azkaban just because they are former Slytherins.”

“Former _evil_ Slytherins, Harry. I doubt Theodore Nott is as innocent as he makes out. His dad was one of the worst Death Eaters. I bet he took the Dark Mark like Malfoy. Have you checked for signs of the Dark Mark?”

“Yes, Hermione. I believe, in fact, that the Ministry checked all former Slytherins for Dark Marks, and that was because you kicked up such a fuss they felt they had to appease you.”

“Do you think they’ve just managed to find a really strong glamour spell to hide all traces and evidence of one?” Hermione asked, completely lost in her tirade.

Harry banged his hand on the table. “That’s enough, Hermione. You’re becoming impossible and, more importantly, a laughing stock. Do you not hear what people are saying about you?”

Hermione impatiently shook her head. “Harry, if I bothered listening to all the gossip about me, then I would have given up in our second-year at Hogwarts when the Slytherins were all wishing me dead.”

“But that’s just it, Hermione, you’re becoming obsessed. Hestia Jones has put her reputation on the line several times to protect your position at the Ministry, but even she is getting sick of your vendetta. If you don’t realise that the world has moved on, and soon, then you’ll find yourself out of a job.”

Hermione was taken aback by the vehemence of Harry’s words. Was it true? Were people really asking for her to be sacked? Surely not. She was a war hero, and besides, anyone who’d been in Gryffindor, or Hufflpuff, or, to a certain extent, Ravenclaw, during her time at Hogwarts would see that she was right to be wary. “Oh, Harry, I’m sure it’s just Slytherins who are asking for me to go. They probably can’t stand that a Muggle-born is making their lives so difficult when it comes to their house-elves.” Hermione said airily, brushing aside his warning.

Harry growled in frustration at his pig-headed friend. “Hermione, you are too stubborn for your own good. When we started trying to implement reconciliation after the war, I thought it’d be Ron who had trouble getting on board. I didn’t think it would be you.”

Hermione was too astonished by Harry’s palpable annoyance with her to even reply to his accusations. 

“But you’ve become more and more convinced that anyone who has graduated from Slytherin House is a mini-Voldemort in waiting, and, frankly, it’s getting boring. Those of us who love you know that they made your life miserable, and you have every right to be angry at many Slytherins, but the general public is beginning to question your sanity.”

“I know that I can be a little stubborn at times, but, Harry, I don’t trust them and I don’t think I ever can. They were so keen to leave Hogwarts on the night of the Battle to stand by Voldemort’s side and I don’t believe that they suddenly changed their opinions overnight,” Hermione said defensively.

“But that’s just the thing, Hermione, it wasn’t overnight. It’s been eight years since the Great Battle; a lot of work has been done to heal the rifts and wounds.”

“It’s just hard to imagine that they’ve accepted the new status quo so easily.”

“We all know that’s not true. The older generations of Voldemort supporters gave us a lot of trouble, but that’s been cleared up now. Have you not stopped to think that those Slytherins who were at school with us were just waiting for a chance to think for themselves? All they heard growing up was how great Voldemort was and how amazing it would be if he came back, but it wasn’t exactly that fantastic when he did,” Harry reasoned.

“I don’t know, Harry. It’s hard to think that those smug little brats who took such pleasure in tormenting us are just misunderstood.”

“I know, but I do have some insight into the matter,” Harry said.

Hermione looked intrigued. As an Auror, Harry got to see and do things that Hermione didn’t, including interrogating Death Eaters. 

“I have something to tell you that I’ve been keeping from you, because I know you will be unable to handle the news without blowing up. I want you to sit there and listen to me because, so help me, Hermione, if you start ranting, I will walk out of here,” Harry said sternly.

Hermione pursed her lips as she took in the angered face of her best friend. She hadn’t seen him this riled up since his perpetual rage in fifth-year. She nodded her agreement.

“Ok, I’ve been seeing Daphne Greengrass romantically,” Harry started, ignoring Hermione’s choke as she swallowed a mouthful of butterbeer too quickly. “We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of years now. We met at a party at Adrian Pucey’s house and hit it off. I know this is a lot for you to take in, but she’s nothing like you imagine. She’s sweet, funny, intelligent, and she makes me happy. I would like for you to accept our relationship as well as Ron has, but I don’t hold out too much hope for that. However, I would like you to meet her and sit down with and give her the opportunity to prove that you are wrong about her and Slytherins in general.”

Hermione sat staring at Harry for a good few minutes with her mouth open. It wasn’t the most attractive look, but it spoke volumes of her shock. “B-b-but how could you keep this from me?” Hermione finally stuttered.

Harry scoffed. “You really need to ask that? Hermione, you’ve hardly been open to anyone who once wore a green and silver tie. You rant continuously to Ron and I about how much you hate Slytherins. How was I meant to tell you that I’d fallen in love with one?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, and you’ve been seeing her for years.”

“Hermione, is that all you are going to focus on? Do you having nothing to say about my actual relationship?”

“So is this the special insight you have into the psyche of the Slytherins?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, I know Daphne wasn’t hugely on our radar at Hogwarts, but she was from a family who supported Voldemort. We’ve spoken a lot about it, and it’s made me realise that the majority of Slytherins in our year didn’t have a huge choice about what they believed. Pureblood families aren’t exactly big on children speaking out and challenging accepted views.”

Hermione looked sceptical at this, but she didn’t want to provoke Harry into walking out on her. He would do it if she blew her top. She took a few seconds to breathe and calm herself before responding. “And you completely trust her on this? If I remember correctly, she was good friends with Parkinson.”

Harry looked murderous for a small minute but, like Hermione, he didn’t want to have a blazing row especially as Theo and Blaise were sitting there hoping for one. “Hermione,” he sighed, “Just trust me for once. I can prove that all your insane ideas regarding Slytherins aren’t correct, but only if you allow your guard down and sit down with Daphne for a while. Can you do that?”

“I don’t know. I’m not going to deny that I’m not hurt that you chose to lie to me about your relationship. I’m also shocked that you, of all people, are dating a Slytherin.” Hermione saw Harry’s face fall at her words and realised that if she wanted to keep him as a friend, then she’d have to make an effort with Greengrass. “But if you are happy, then I guess I’m happy for you,” Hermione nearly choked on her words.

Harry's face lit up. “Really? You mean that?” Hermione nodded. “And you’ll stick around to meet her in a minute?” Harry asked.

Hermione dug deep into her inner reserves of friendship. She and Harry had been through too much for one little Slytherin to get in the way; if Greengrass meant this much to him, then she would swallow her bile and meet the woman. At least it wasn’t Pansy Parkinson. Hermione wasn’t sure that she’d be able to stomach that. 

“Good, because here she comes now,” Harry said, with a big smile on his face.

Hermione turned to see Greengrass chatting to both Nott and Zabini. She caught Harry’s eye, smiled at her two former housemates and walked over. Hermione kept watching the two Slytherin males and saw them staring at the table intently. Anyone would think that they were assessing whether they’d have to defend Greengrass from a hostile Hermione. Hermione smirked at this; at least she had them fearing her. 

Harry stood, regaining Hermione’s attention, and she saw that Greengrass had arrived and was smiling rather nervously at her. Hermione forced a smile back. Harry noticed that it was more a grimace rather than anything friendly, but he was too pleased at her actually shutting her mouth and stopping her prejudiced ranting long enough to smile… well, sort of smile.

“Daphne, this is Hermione. Hermione, Daphne,” Harry introduced.

Daphne held her hand out for Hermione to shake and shyly said. “Hello, Hermione. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Harry didn’t miss the pointed remark. Ok, so he’d been a complete wimp in hiding his relationship from Hermione.

“Daphne,” Hermione said, a little curtly, but softened it a tad with a nod. 

There was an awkward silence as Daphne and Harry tried to think of something to say and Hermione reigned in her desire to leg it as far away as she could from the brown-haired Slytherin. She was tense and completely unable to relax. This was the first time she’d willingly shared a table with a Slytherin, ever, and she was uncomfortable. 

Daphne pointed down to Hermione’s shopping bag, which was bursting at the seams with books. “Buy anything interesting?” she asked, hoping this might well get some kind of conversation rolling. 

“Oh, just some books on curses. I realised how inadequate my collection in this area was when I was looking through them for more information on this curse the Ministry has dropped on us,” Hermione replied[,] a little stiffly.

“Do you know what the curse is, then?” Daphne asked again. “Harry says he doesn’t know what it is.”

“Not yet, no. It seems the Ministry is keeping it close to their chests. However, I wanted to make sure I was as up-to-date as possible, because I fully plan on breaking it. I have no intention of marrying Malfoy,” Hermione practically spat that last sentence.

“Oh,” Daphne uttered politely, while Harry cleared his throat nervously. Daphne was fiercely loyal to Draco, as all Slytherins were to each other. She was especially proud of how Draco had changed, and she hated anyone failing to acknowledge this. Most of her early fights with Harry had been about the snarky blond. Harry didn’t understand how she could defend Draco’s actions so loyally, but then again, Daphne could say the same thing about Hermione. He didn’t want to referee a screaming match between the two witches, but luckily his girlfriend realised that now was not the time or place to defend her friend.

The conversation was worn out now, and Hermione felt that she’d been polite long enough. She chugged back the rest of her drink, smiled awkwardly, stood and said her goodbyes before high-tailing it out of the pub as quickly as possible. Daphne and Harry both exhaled a big sigh of relief as the curly-haired ex-Gryffindor disappeared out of the Leaky Cauldron’s Muggle entrance. 

“That could have gone worse,” Harry said. “I still have all my limbs attached.”

Daphne giggled, feeling relieved and slightly giddy that Hermione hadn’t attacked her on sight. “She seemed to take the news better than expected.”

Harry’s expression darkened. “Only because I told her some much needed home truths and I threatened to end our friendship if she started.”

Daphne looked sadly at her raven-haired boyfriend. “Oh, Harry, I am sorry. I don’t want to come between you and your friends.”

“Hey!” Harry said, hugging his witch. “She’s the one with the problem, not you. I think Ron and I have indulged her too much by listening to her venting.”

“Why does she hate Slytherins so much? I mean, if I was asked after the war to pinpoint one of your friends who was going to be ridiculously stubborn and idiotic, it wouldn’t have been Granger. She was always the peacemaker at Hogwarts and did her best to stop your stupid fights with Draco from escalating into something too terrible.”

Harry looked down at the table, tracing his finger around a wet circle left by his butterbeer. “I know. I completely thought Ron would be the problem, but being paired up with Pucey after Auror training was great for him. They both love Quidditch and hit it off. Ron and I were so busy with Auror training after the war, so I guess we kind of just left Hermione to do her thing. It was ages before I actually noticed that she wasn’t handling things too well. Hermione always had the ability to be a little intense, and she’s so incredibly passionate about the rights of the downtrodden that I didn’t see how her job at the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was re-enforcing her stereotypes. I really do blame myself for being so caught up in my own life and refusing to make her seek help when I finally did notice that she wasn’t ok. I don’t think she fully recovered from being so brutally tortured. She was hit long and hard by Bellatrix’s Cruciatus, and she didn’t crack. After we escaped Malfoy Manor, there was still so much to do that we didn’t have time to sit down and discuss how it was affecting her. She recovered physically, and we didn’t think to make sure she was mentally recovered before we were off again. The Great Battle followed not too long after, and that took a toll on everyone. Once we did notice, however, we should have made her go to those counselling sessions, but it’s Hermione, and I didn’t want to make her do anything she didn’t want to do. She’s the sister I never had.” 

Daphne covered her mouth with her hand. “I completely forgot about her torture. How is she going to be able to marry Draco and live at the Manor?”

Harry was grim-faced as he considered this point. “I don’t know. The way she’s going at the moment, we’ll be lucky if she gets that far. She could easily be carted off to St. Mungo’s. She’s planning on confronting Hestia tomorrow at work, and she is rapidly losing patience with Hermione’s inability to move on and not think of every Slytherin as a Death Eater.”

“Do you think getting George to speak to her will help?”

Harry shook his head. “We’ve tried that. She’s outright refused to admit that there is anything wrong and has laughed off suggestions that she’s more affected that she realised by the torture.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I’m really worried that this order to marry Malfoy is going to be the last straw. She’s wound so tight that she could snap at any moment, and you know Draco; he’s not the most understanding person in the world. He’ll push her buttons until she does break.” 

“I’ll speak to him, Harry. I’ll make him see that he can’t be his usual self with her.”

Harry smiled at his understanding other half. He’d really lucked out when she’d agreed to date him. “Thanks, sweetie,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. 

“Ok, enough with the public displays of affection, Daphne, it’s disgusting,” Blaise said as he and Theo wandered over.

Daphne immaturely stuck her tongue out at the enigmatic Slytherin. He raised his eyebrows. “Real grown-up, Greengrass,” he drawled at her.

Theo slurped his firewhiskey as he flopped down opposite Harry. “I was disappointed, Potter. I was hoping for at least one curse to be fired at you. You said Granger was feisty,” he accused his green-eyed friend.

“Just be grateful she didn’t do anything to you. She was trying to convince me, once again, to haul your sorry arse off to Azkaban.”

Theo shuddered. “I actually pity Malfoy now. No matter how vapid Brown is, at least I’ll sleep in peace. If I had Granger near me, I’d be worried that she’d kill me in my sleep.”

Harry groaned. “Don’t put that idea in her head, she’ll probably execute it.”

“Or him,” Blaise quipped.

Daphne moved the conversation back to more productive grounds. “Do you think Hermione will actually be able to find a way around the curse?”

Harry pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Well, if anyone can, it’s Hermione. She saved my arse more times than I can remember, and she’s certainly in full research mode. But it’s all a little vague at the moment. Until we know exactly what the curse entails, then it’s hard to say.”

“Wait a minute, Granger’s going to try and break the curse?” Blaise asked.

“Yep,” Daphne replied. “She’s outright refusing to marry Draco and thinks that breaking the curse is her best option.”

“Unless, of course, she can convince Hestia that she shouldn’t be paired up with anyone,” Harry added.

“If Granger wasn’t so scary, I’d actually offer her my help. I’d rather not be tied to Brown for the rest of my life. But I doubt your curly-haired maniac of a friend will want assistance from a Slytherin.”

Harry laughed at Theo, but inside he was sad. He hated to see Hermione like this. She was messed up and she needed help, but getting her to seek that help was going to be tough. She hated feeling out of control, which was no doubt a side effect from when she was at the mercy of Bellatrix Lestrange. She channelled all her feelings of hate and distrust onto the House of Slytherin, but this was becoming less tenable as more barriers between the former students were broken down.


	4. Chapter 4

“I see that you survived, then,” were the first words that Harry heard as he entered his office on Monday morning. Harry looked up from the post he’d just collected from his secretary and saw Draco Malfoy, feet up, looking perfectly at home behind his desk.

“Good morning to you too, Malfoy,” Harry drawled.

“Shame, I was hoping to nab your job,” Draco continued as if Harry hadn’t spoken. “Adrian tells me that being an Auror works like a charm with the ladies.”

“You already have the Malfoy name to fall back on. You add Auror to the collection and our witches may well simultaneously melt into a puddle of goo.”

“Hmmm,” Draco pondered. “That would probably help me out with my wild-haired banshee problem.”

“Hey! That’s my best friend you are talking about,” Harry complained, throwing his stapler at Draco.

“Nah, she’d likely be the only witch resistant to my good looks, charm, money, and job. Then the only way for the wizarding population to procreate would be through her, and that’s a scary thought,” Draco thought out.

“I see you’re thinking positively about your future Malfoy progeny.” Adrian Pucey smirked from the doorway.

“Just think how cute and cuddly they’ll be, Adrian,” Ron added, walking in behind Adrian. “Those little pointy features, hair that needs its own postcode, and that ever so charming personality combination of superiority, stubbornness, and insults. My, my, the next generation of Malfoys are going to be a real catch.”

Adrian and Harry laughed whilst Draco scowled. “They’ll still be better looking than your lot, Weasley. All that red hair and a forest of freckles, I can see why the Ministry matched you with Davis.”

Harry interrupted before a full scale insult war could break out. “Did you get a letter, Adrian?” He asked.

“Yep, I was matched with none other than Angelina Johnson.” Adrian grinned.

“No wonder you’re so chirpy this morning. You always used to aim for her on the Quidditch pitch, in hopes that she’d actually notice you,” Draco said. 

“As if she couldn’t help but look at this glorious amount of gorgeousness.” Adrian smirked.

“The Slytherin talent for narcissism never fails to amaze,” Harry remarked to Ron.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Do you think they’ll ever find someone to love them as much as they love themselves?”

Before either Draco or Adrian could respond, the building shook slightly to the sound of a distant explosion. Harry checked his watch before swearing. “Shit, that’ll be Hermione doing something stupid, like blowing up one of Hestia’s secretaries. I was meant to be there to keep her under control,” Harry said before dashing out of the door.

Adrian raised his eyebrow and looked over at Draco, who was now leaning back in Potter’s chair, leafing through his confidential documents. Adrian thought about reprimanding Draco for this since he was not a Ministry employee, but then thought again. He didn’t want to be hexed by Draco, and if Potter was happy or stupid enough to leave the nosey blond behind his desk, then that was Potter’s business. Adrian would never have allowed another Slytherin access to his desk. Goodness knows what dirt they could dig up and use against him. Not for the first time, Adrian shook his head at the trusting folly of his Gryffindor co-workers. But instead of dwelling on this, Adrian asked another question plaguing him. “Aren’t you going to help Potter out with the future Mrs. Malfoy?”

“Nope, nothing I’ll say will penetrate that tragedy of a bush she calls hair. Besides, I reckon my presence will just make matters worse,” Draco replied.

Ron nodded in agreement. “She’s gone to tell Hestia that under no circumstances will she be marrying into the Malfoy family.”

Adrian was amused by this. Only Granger could think she could take on the might of the Ministry and win. “Has she got any hope in succeeding?”

“Worried she’ll wreck your chances with that feisty former Gryffindor chaser?” Draco sardonically drawled.

Adrian ignored his snarky ex-housemate and focused on his partner instead. 

“Nah,” Ron answered. “Hestia wouldn’t have done this unless it was a last resort. All Hermione will do is annoy her, hence why Harry’s gone chasing after her. When she has a bee in her bonnet, she tends to refuse to take no for an answer.”

Adrian shuddered slightly at the thought. Granger was a formidable prospect normally, but when you came across an enraged Granger, you usually just got down on your knees and prayed. In fact, thinking about it, the only person who usually emerged unscathed from a Granger tornado was Draco Malfoy, which is probably why they’d been matched. You needed a cast-iron constitution to cope with either. 

Harry arrived at Hestia’s outer offices completely out of breath. He surveyed the wreckage that was once an office with a worried eye, but breathed a sigh of relief when he realised that no one was hurt or dead, unless you counted Hestia’s door. It was reduced to a pile of splinters which had fanned out in a rather impressive arc that spoke to the power of the Reducto spell flung at it. 

Harry didn’t have too long to get comfortable as the sound of shouting emanated out of said office. Harry recognised Hermione’s voice straight away. The rather shrill one responding sounded like an incredibly stressed out Hestia Jones. 

He nodded reassurance at Hestia’s secretaries, Percy Weasley and Julian St. Ledger, who were worriedly wondering if they should go to Hestia’s aid. “Don’t worry, I’ll go in and calm her down,” Harry said.

Harry took a deep breath before braving Hestia’s inner office. The sight that met him would usually have made him laugh. Hermione was standing tall like an avenging harpy whilst Hestia was cowering in her chair looking more than a little frightened of the angry and upset Gryffindor Goddess. 

“What do you mean, you cannot allow me to refuse to marry Malfoy?” Hermione screeched.

“It’s not in my power, Hermione, why can’t you see that? It’s the curse, not me, enforcing this. It’s not as if I went into the job looking to force young wizards and witches into marrying each other.”

“Come on, Hermione, she has a point,” Harry interceded. “You know Hestia wouldn’t do something like this unless it was necessary.”

Hermione turned round to stare at Harry, hands of her hips. “I don’t accept this. I refuse to marry Ferret Boy.”

“It’s sounding as if you don’t have a choice?”

“Oh, I have a choice. I’m not a tool for the Ministry or whoever to force into a marriage.”

“Look,” Hestia said. “Everything will be explained on Thursday and you’ll see how tied my hands are.”

“At least give me someone else. Hell, I’ll even take Nott. He’s better than Malfoy.”

“The pairings are non-negotiable I’m afraid, which will also be explained on Thursday.”

“Why do I have to wait until Thursday to find out?”

“Because the curse was not revealed to me, and the person to whom it was revealed will be explaining it to everyone.”

“I find this most unacceptable. I cannot believe that you are unable to let us know about it in advance.”

“I don’t have much of a say, I’m afraid. Please, Hermione, just wait like everyone else. This isn’t something dreamt up by a crazy person for fun.”

Hermione deflated, realising that she wasn’t going to get her way, which, frankly, didn’t happen very often. “I guess I have no choice,” she mumbled unhappily.

“Now, Hermione, I have an important meeting with the Georgian Ministry in ten minutes and I’ll like an opportunity to try and clear up the mess you’ve managed to make of my office.”

Hermione flicked her wand and everything was as it had been before she’d burst in. “Sorry about that, I tend to lose it a little when I’m told by Percy Weasley that you are unavailable.”

Hestia nodded, knowing that that was as much of an apology as she was going to get from Hermione. As Harry led her back out of the office, she let out the breath she’d been holding. Hermione Granger was unpredictable at the best of times. How she and Draco Malfoy had been matched, she’d never know. There was a very real danger that one of them would end up dead within a few hours of marrying each other. And Hestia would be betting that it would be the snarky blond Slytherin. 

Harry got Hermione safely back into the corridor. Percy had come close to being maimed with a rather unwise comment about respecting the timetable of the Minister for Magic. Lucky for Percy, Harry still had a strong grip on Hermione’s wand arm and marched her out of the office without any further mishaps.

“Hermione, are you insane? What did I say to you just yesterday?”

“It was Percy’s fault. He wound me up,” Hermione said defensively.

“That’s not an excuse, Hermione. You’re 25 years old; please, can you try and act it?”

Hermione resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at Harry in a childish gesture of defiance. She hated it when he got all bossy and censorious, especially as that was her role! Since when had Harry been the one worried about taking the law into your own hands? Hermione sighed inwardly. She knew she was being a little unreasonable these days, but she couldn’t help it. It wasn’t she who had changed by befriending the snakes that her friends seemed keen on. 

“Ok, ok, so I shouldn’t have blown Hestia’s door up. I got a little out of control.”

“A little?” 

Hermione ignored Harry’s interjection. “But look, I’m nice and calm now, so I’ll just go back to my office and continue with my work.”

“No, come and have a cup of tea with Ron and I,” Harry said, not wanting to leave Hermione alone until she’d completely calmed down. He wouldn’t put it past her to burst back in on Hestia and blow up the Georgian Minister for Magic, sparking a diplomatic crisis.

“I’m not a child, Harry. I don’t need to be kept under your eye until you deem me safe again,” Hermione pouted.

Harry disagreed. Hermione could be completely childish, especially when her will was crossed. She reminded him of Teddy during his terrible two phase. 

“Just come back with me. We never see very much of you and you never come for a tea break at our office.”

“Try because that hideous snake, Pucey, is there,” Hermione muttered before deciding to play nice with Harry. “Ok, I’ll come, but you better have biscuits.”

“I share an office with Ron, do you think there wouldn’t be snacks?” Harry pointed out.

Hermione laughed, linking her arms with Harry to walk back to his office. Harry hoped that Malfoy had departed to do whatever it was he did during the day. He wouldn’t put it past Hermione to blow up the obnoxious Slytherin on sight. At the moment, Harry was more worried about Hermione than he let on. This curse and marriage law had come at the wrong time for her. It was feeding her bitter feelings towards Slytherins and making her seem crazier than ever. The fact that she had been paired up with Draco was the icing on the cake; not that any Slytherin would have been acceptable to his friend, but Malfoy had a special place of loathing in Hermione’s heart. 

Crisis averted for now, Harry slowly walked back to his office. He had thought that once Voldemort was dead, he’d be able to skip off happily into the sunset. Instead, it was now his best friend who was giving him premature grey hairs and sleepless nights, and it wasn’t looking as if it was going to change any time soon.

“What’s the casualty rate?” Ron asked, as Harry returned to the Auror’s offices. 

“I heard that, Ronald,” Hermione said, following Harry into the office. “It was only Hestia’s door and nearly your brother for stupid remarks, _again_.”

“Percy always was an overbearing pompous git, Hermione. I give you permission to blow him up next time.”

Hermione grinned at Ron. “I doubt Molly would be so forgiving.”

Hermione looked around the office and nodded stiffly at Pucey before finally catching sight of who was sitting behind Harry’s desk, feet up, arms resting behind his head, looking as if he owned the place.

“Hello, kitten,” Draco drawled at her, smirking when he saw the rage start to infuse her eyes.

Harry groaned; his hopes that Malfoy would finally gain some tact and piss off were unfulfilled. He’d just averted one disaster to unwittingly put himself in the middle of another.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Hermione asked with loathing in her voice.

“I came to see Adrian, sweetheart,” Draco said, happily adding more fuel to the Granger fire.

Ron and Adrian started to duck down behind their desks, waiting for the explosion that was about to happen.

“Don’t call me that, I’m not your anything, you creep,” Hermione raged.

The blond seemed unconcerned about the danger he was in, but that was Malfoy all around. ‘He never could resist riling Hermione up’, Harry thought bitterly.

“But that’s where you’re wrong. You’re my fiancée,” Draco said, looking her up and down. “Although I do feel I should inform you that Malfoys never appear anything but cool and collected; you may want to work on that, you look rather frazzled right now.”

Hermione crackled with anger. Her hair was getting bushier by the second, and she was close to losing it. “I’m not marrying you, you evil git.”

“I’ll remind you of that in a year’s time when you’re Mrs. Malfoy.”

Hermione stomped her foot petulantly. “If I’m forced to marry you, you won’t be alive in a year’s time.”

“I do love it when you get so angry. You make a very sexy harpy, kitten,” Draco said, winking at her, enjoying himself hugely.

“I’m not a kitten! Stop saying shit like that to me.”

Draco laughed in her face. “But you make a delightful kitten, all ruffled and spitting with your claws out, ready to strike.”

“That’s enough,” Harry shouted, stepping in between the two. “You stay there,” Harry ordered Draco. “Hermione, come with me.” 

Harry had to drag the furious woman out of the door. He happily bumped into the serene presence of Luna Lovegood, muttered something about Malfoy to the ditzy girl, and dumped a still-fuming Hermione on her. That was the lovely thing about Luna - she didn’t mind Harry doing so. Luna rubbed soothing hands down Hermione’s back and took the incensed brunette back to her office to drink a cup of calming camomile tea. Luna was such a good friend that she allowed Hermione to rant about Draco Malfoy for at least an hour.

“How you always seem to escape being murdered by Hermione is a source of constant amazement to me,” Ron commented to the smirking Slytherin.

“Kitten?” Adrian mused. “I would never have thought about calling Granger that, but it’s very apt, Draco. She certainly resembled an angry kitten by the time she left. Albeit it a feral one.”

Draco didn’t say anything; he sat there feeling incredibly smug about his ability to enrage Granger more than anyone else on the planet. It was a source of pride for him and never got old.

Harry stalked back into the office. “There are times when I really hate you, Malfoy,” he growled.

Draco just raised his hands in surrender, the pleased aura around him palpable. 

“You’ll get nowhere with that kind of reprimand, Harry,” Adrian said. “Draco loves nothing more than annoying Granger until she loses it.”

“She really will kill you, Malfoy,” Ron said. “I don’t know what the Ministry was thinking, pairing those two off.”

“Hestia said that the pairings were out of her hands. Hermione practically begged her for anyone other than Malfoy.”

“I wonder who’s behind all of this?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know, but they seem to have worked out the pairings pretty well despite matching Draco with Granger,” Adrian replied.

“Ahhhh, but Daphne informs me that Draco here has a rather large soft spot for our Hermione,” Harry said happily, knowing that he was pissing Malfoy off.

“I do not have a thing for Granger in any way, shape, or form.”

Adrian sniggered. “He always protests so vehemently about this that we all know it’s true.”

Draco scowled at the annoying trio of Aurors in front of him. “Don’t you guys have an escaped Death Eater or something to catch?”

“We could go for the one sitting in front of us,” Adrian remarked cruelly.

Draco’s frown got blacker. “If you guys have quite finished being pricks, I’ve got places to be.”

“Oh yes, the patented Malfoy move of running away when a conversation goes somewhere they don’t like,” Adrian said, continuing to niggle away at Draco.

Ron and Harry loved it when the two Slytherins bickered like this. No-one could annoy Malfoy quicker than one of his housemates when they decided to turn their nasty wit against him. Well, except Hermione, at pretty much any point. Draco gave Adrian the finger and swooped out with his robes billowing imperiously behind him. 

“He gets more and more like Snape, which is just what the world needs,” Harry said.

“You know you’re lucky I was here to be Draco’s excuse for visiting, don’t you? When are you going to tell Granger about your other dirty Slytherin secret? Granger knows the pair of you socialise with me, and she now knows about Harry dating Daphne,” Adrian spotted Harry’s confused look. “Ron told me whilst you were rescuing Granger from being sacked. But when are you going to let the nastiest secret of them all out, that you’ve been friends with Draco for at least a year?”

“Hopefully never,” Ron said optimistically.

Adrian snorted at him. “Yeah, good luck pulling the wool over her eyes. Do me a favour and don’t tell her whilst I’m in the vicinity. I’m too young and good-looking to die.”

Harry and Ron swapped glances. They dreaded the day that they had to tell Hermione that they’d put their differences with Draco Malfoy in the past. She was going to go ballistic.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione wasn't sure how she'd managed it, but she had kept all the anxiety bouncing around inside her quiet for the next three days until Thursday rolled around. She'd spent the time keeping her head down after the disaster that was Monday morning. For once, she took Harry's advice, knowing that it had been given to her in good faith, and she concentrated instead on reading through her new material on curses. She hadn't gotten too far, which was frustrating, mainly because she didn't know the nature of the curse, and the possibilities were endless. But she enjoyed learning a lot more about curses, which she knew would come in very useful once she did have all the details.

Her pacing around her small office was interrupted by the arrival of Ginny Weasley, who swept into her department like the small hurricane that she was. "Still stuck in this poky office, I see," were the first words out of Ginny's mouth.

"You know the Ministry; magical creatures aren't deemed important enough for me to have a brand spanking new shiny office like Harry and Ron. The fact that I'm dealing with house-elf issues makes us even more unpopular."

"Still, it must be nice working with Ernie."

Hermione smiled fondly. Ernie MacMillan was a Hufflepuff who was almost as passionate as she was when it came to improving house-elves’ lot. He was her one notable S.P.E.W success, which made her founding of the organisation back in her fourth year at Hogwarts, all the more satisfactory. It had died a death during all the drama of the war but had given her the desire to go into the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She had been pleased to discover, after graduating a year late with her N.E.W.T.s, that the wizard who had previously dealt with house-elves was retiring. She grabbed the position with both hands and then bartered with the head of her new department to have Ernie employed too. They were stuffed away in a tiny little office right at the back of the department like the embarrassment her boss thought they were.

"Yeah, he's great."

"Keeps you in check too, although I hear you gave Hestia a fright the other day."

Hermione groaned and put her head in her hands. "Does the whole world know about that?"

"If by the whole world you mean the Weasley family, then yes, thanks to the big mouths of Ron and Harry."

Hermione continued to hide in her hands. "Great. George is going to be a nightmare."

"So far George is enjoying ribbing Percy about it as he considers him more at fault than you. Besides, apart from Percy, we Weasleys like a rule-breaker -- makes life so much more interesting."

Hermione smiled weakly at her redheaded friend. "I didn't manage to get much information though. Shame Harry had to turn up when he did. Five minutes more and I reckon Hestia would have caved."

Ginny shook her head in amusement at Hermione. "Draco Malfoy, huh? That's going to make for an explosive combination."

"Not going to happen," Hermione snarled. "I refuse to marry that evil, nasty little ferret."

"Good luck getting out of that one. Me, I'm personally looking forward to being Mrs. Zabini. Ginevra Zabini, it has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Not you as well. It's bad enough that Harry is dating Daphne Greengrass."

Ginny was impressed that Harry had finally mustered up enough courage to tell his temperamental friend about his long-term Slytherin girlfriend. "But Zabini's hot. All the girls at Hogwarts thought so. Well, all the girls but one," Ginny amended after she saw the disgusted look on Hermione's face.

"Ugh. I feel sick at this new-found Gryffindor love towards the Slytherins. It's depressing. We're meant to take delight in beating them, not stand around mooning at how cute they are." Hermione spat the word cute like it was an affront to her vocabulary to use that word when describing a Slytherin.

Ginny rolled her eyes. Harry and Ron hadn't exaggerated when they'd told her Hermione was getting worse. "Come on, Hermione, times have changed and it's no longer a crime to appreciate the yumminess of certain Slytherins. Besides, next on my list of hot snakes is a certain blond, soon-to-be Mr. Granger."

"Now you're making me want to vomit, Ginny. It's Malfoy – you know the snivelling coward who made our lives miserable at Hogwarts."

"But I hear he's changed. Ron and Harry tell me that he's matured."

"Ron and Harry? How would they know?"

Ginny mentally slapped herself. Bloody hell, she forgot that Hermione didn't know just how much interaction her two favourite boys had with the Slytherins these days. "Oh well, you know, they've come across him every now and again thanks to Pucey."

"I guess. He was in their office yesterday tormenting me as usual," Hermione grumbled. "I was hoping, for a minute, that they were making his life hell by raiding Malfoy Manor seeking for Dark articles so they could lock him in Azkaban. But then again, if they were doing such a job, they wouldn't be noticing how much he'd changed."

"You need to start trying to get over this prejudice, Hermione. If you are going to marry Malfoy, then you cannot continue as you are," Ginny said seriously.

"I told you that there is no way in hell that I'm marrying him. I'll find a way out of it even if Hestia has told me that it's non-negotiable. Besides, I'm looking for a way to break the curse once I have enough information about it."

"Yeah, Bill told me that you've already contacted him about it."

"I was hoping he'd have some news by now, but unfortunately he knows nothing. He has promised to help me once I can fill him in, though," Hermione said brightening up considerably.

"He's almost as excited as you about the prospect of a new curse to sink his wolfish teeth into."

"He's just lucky that he doesn't have this marriage thing looming over his head," Hermione said, the scowl returning to her face again.

"In some ways that's a good thing, Hermione; he'll be able to distance himself from all the emotion, which, understandably, you won't be able to do."

Hermione nodded, acknowledging the truth of that statement. "So you mentioned George -- did he get a letter?"

Ginny started laughing so hard, she snorted and fell off her chair. "Yep and you'll never guess who he got."

"Who?" Hermione asked, intrigued now.

"Pansy Parkinson. He went pale at the prospect of being stuck with her."

"Oh, poor George. He deserves better than that awful pug. She'll make his life a misery."

"I know. She's one Slytherin I don't think can change."

"Along with Malfoy. Those two are perfect for each other. I never understood why they didn't marry. It'd let George and me off the hook if they had," Hermione said bitterly.

Ginny wisely kept her mouth shut. She didn't want to encourage yet another anti-Malfoy rant, especially as the few times she'd seen him in her brother's company, he'd seemed vastly different to the bigoted little snob they went to school with.

"So are you going to share the gossip? You mentioned that you saw Malfoy yesterday in the Auror office."

Hermione shivered. "Don't remind me. I was meant to be having a nice soothing cup of tea with Harry, but ferret-face was there. He did his usual routine: throw some insults at me and try to make me uncomfortable."

"It seems that it worked," Ginny remarked.

Hermione just blushed. She didn't know why she let Malfoy get to her so much. It was frustrating. Ginny also had that knowing look on her face, almost as if she had some ground-breaking revelation she wanted to share with Hermione. Luckily for Hermione, Ernie decided this was a good time to return after his lunch break.

"Hey Ginny, how are you?" he asked.

"I'm good. Tired with all the Harpies training but it's worth it. I love playing Quidditch professionally."

Ernie smiled at that. Ginny Weasley had always loved playing Quidditch but had to practice secretly as a child due to the over-protective nature of her older brothers. It was fairly amusing that she was the one out of all seven siblings, and the only girl, who became the professional player.

"I thought it was the closed training season? How come you're here?"

"Oh, I've been given special dispensation to return for this meeting the Ministry is hosting tonight," Ginny said before whispering. "You know, regarding the arranged Gryffindor/Slytherin marriages."

Ernie raised his eyebrows. "Oh, so you got a letter too. Am I being too nosy in asking who you were paired with?"

"Yeah, it's not as if the matches are state secrets. Besides, even if they were, the truth would be out soon anyway. I got matched with Blaise Zabini."

Ernie nodded. "I can see that working. They seem to have put a good effort into matching you all with compatible other halves." Hermione glared at him and Ernie paled. "Except of course in Hermione's case. I mean Malfoy and Hermione, you couldn't have picked two less-suited people."

Hermione smiled at the backpedalling Hufflepuff but failed to notice the eye roll he gave Ginny before mouthing silently, "They are so perfect for each other. Who else could handle the other?"

Ginny smothered her laugh. "Anyway, I'll get out of your hair. I promised Harry and Ron I'd swing by and say hello before I left to do some much needed shopping in Diagon Alley."

Hermione and Ernie smiled at Ginny and waved goodbye before coming together to speak about the upcoming raid on the old Yaxley estate where the condition of the house-elves was awful.

\-----------------------

"Well, well, I'm pleased to see this crack team of Aurors are hard at work," Ginny mocked as she entered Harry's office to find him playing Exploding Snap with Ron, Adrian Pucey, and Harry's partner, Robert Hilliard, a Ravenclaw who was some years ahead of them at Hogwarts.

"Ginny!" both Ron and Harry screamed, getting up and squashing her in a group hug.

"Hey, get off me. You're squeezing me to death, you pair of oafs!" Ginny protested.

"How're the Harpies shaping up this year, Gin? Is it worth me putting any gold on them to win the championship?" Ron asked excitedly.

"We're shaping up just fine, Ron, and you know better than to think I'll give you any more information than that. There could be spies anywhere in this leaky old building."

"You're such a stick in the mud," Ron grumbled.

"Better a stick in the mud than an ex-Chaser because I was stupid enough to give our secrets away."

Ron pulled a childish expression at Ginny who retaliated with an identical look. Harry grinned at the pair of them. "We were expecting you ages ago," he said

"Oh yes, I can see that you're so incredibly busy that dropping by now is taking you away from some valuable work. Besides, I had to sit through a Hermione monologue on why Malfoy is so evil."

"Is she still ranting on about that?" Ron moaned.

"This is Hermione we're talking about. It's not like she's suddenly going to forget it and move on.” She continued, “So, I learnt that she bumped into the snarky blond in your office yesterday."

Harry groaned. "Don't remind me. I thought Malfoy would have pissed off, and I brought Hermione back to calm her down and hopefully talk some sense into her, but Draco was still here."

Ginny started sniggering. "I bet that was fun."

"She nearly blew up our office," Ron said. "Mind you, I don't blame her. Draco did call her 'kitten'."

Ginny spat out a mouthful of the tea that Harry had just handed to her. "Kitten? Does he want to live to see twenty-five?"

"Apparently not," Harry dryly responded. "Anyway, how's Hermione doing today?"

"She's knee-deep in learning all about curses so she's ready to break this thing. She has Bill all excited and foaming at the mouth."

"Great, remind me to stay away from either for a good few weeks. They're going to be impossible," Ron said.

"Yep," Ginny nodded. "But speaking of impossible, when are you knuckleheads going to tell Hermione about your friendship with her husband-to-be? I nearly let it slip earlier when trying to point out that he's not the same pure-blooded brat we went to school with."

"Ha! We both want to know the answer to that question, little Weasley," Pucey interjected. "They are wimping out hugely, too scared of what their psychotic friend is going to do to them."

"Hey, she's not psychotic," Ginny defended.

Adrian smirked at Hilliard. "If you say so." Both men started laughing.

Ginny narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Pucey, just in case you were wondering, I haven't lost my touch with the Bat Bogey Hex, but I haven't practiced for a while. Are you offering yourself as a target practice for me?"

Adrian gulped and an amused voice from the door said. "These Gryffindor girls are scary stuff, Adrian. I'd watch out if I was you."

Ginny turned round and blushed when she saw the figure of Blaise Zabini lounging against the door frame elegantly. "Oh, hi," she said, feeling shy all of a sudden.

Blaise sauntered into the room. "I was going to ask Adrian here if he fancied getting a late lunch," Blaise remarked to Ginny. "But seeing as you have a much prettier face, feel like keeping me company?"

"Hey!" Adrian protested, "Plenty of witches would love for me to go to lunch with them."

"Exactly, Adrian, witches! Last time I checked a mirror, I was very much a wizard."

"Yeah, all of thirty seconds ago and I'm sure that mirror confused you for a witch, you vain git," Harry muttered to both Ron and Adrian, who guffawed.

Blaise didn't even bother to glare at Harry; he was too busy raising Ginny's hand to kiss it, charming the redheaded Gryffindor into stammering a positive reply. He put his arm around her shoulders, steering her out of the door and turned to smirk at the Aurors as he left.

"Bloody slick Slytherin bastard," Ron muttered unhappily.

\-----------------

Ginny tried to steady her erratic heartbeat as she sat across from Blaise Zabini; she was sure he could probably hear it and would be amused. She didn't quite know why she was so nervous. Maybe because the Ministry had decided that this would be the man she would be tied to for a long while or maybe because no one she had ever dated before had the same intense dark gaze that this tall Slytherin had. She felt as if she had morphed into the awkward twelve-year-old that she had been when faced with Harry. For someone as confident as Ginny had become, it was an uncomfortable feeling. It didn't help that Zabini didn't appear too bothered about conversing with her. She felt altogether gauche and ill at ease.

"So, Zabini," she began. "What are you doing these days?"

"I think you can call me Blaise, considering we're going to be getting married at some point. I work with Draco. We run a potions laboratory along with Severus."

"Ok, Blaise," Ginny said shyly. "Working in a potions lab sounds interesting. How is it working with Professor Snape?"

"You know Severus, he can be harsh, but he respects our abilities in Potions and of course loves Draco a lot, which mitigates a lot of his snarky moods."

"It's just weird trying to picture Snape actually having fond feelings towards anyone. He was always so awful to Gryffindors, and Harry in particular."

"That's just part of the Snape charm. He hides a heart of gold behind that cold exterior and he can show it now that he does not continuously have to play double-triple spy or whatever he was."

"Yeah, I guess so. It's still weird for me to picture him like that."

"Now that the boundaries are shifting so much, you'll probably get to see this side of Severus. I see him regularly, which means you probably will too."

Ginny processed that. It was so strange thinking that this was the first time she had really spoken to her, for lack of a better word, fiancé. "Do you find this whole marriage-due-to-a-curse thing strange? I must admit, I'm struggling to really take it all in."

"It definitely ranks as one of the most bizarre things in my life. I'm very curious as to what this curse is. I think Severus has been consulted in some way, because he's been very closed off about the whole issue when Draco and I have tried to question him. Usually, he'd share everything with us, but this must be seriously top secret because he's saying nothing."

"Hermione's cribbing up on all things curse-related. She already has my brother Bill on red alert so they can get working on breaking it as soon as this meeting is over tonight."

"I heard from Adrian that she made a scene, pretty much refusing to marry Draco in the Minister for Magic's office the other day."

Ginny's loyalty to Hermione and all her friends was fierce. No matter how handsome the Slytherin sitting opposite her was, or that he was, for all intents and purposes, her intended, she would not criticise Hermione to him. "Hermione doesn't like being told to do something without knowing the reason. She was frustrated that Hestia was keeping her, and all of us, in the dark."

"Hmmm that's one way of putting it," Blaise said, smirking at her across the table.

"How's Malfoy taking the news?" Ginny asked, looking to take the heat off Hermione but also genuinely curious.

"You know Draco -- well actually you don't ... he's keeping his cards close to his chest. He's not reacted positively or negatively towards the news."

"I thought he'd have been upset at ruining that perfect pure-blood pedigree," Ginny remarked.

"Nah, Draco's not like that anymore. When he saw the reality of the war, with Voldemort living at Malfoy Manor, he had to grow up quickly, and part of that process was seeing that it's the magic that counts, not the blood. And who can argue that Granger is one of the most talented witches to be born in a long while?"

Ginny analysed this. It seemed to prove her point to Hermione earlier that Draco had changed. She'd gotten that impression from the few times she had seen him, but those hadn't been long periods of time, and it's not as if they swapped secrets. "Well, it's good to know that he's past all that bigotry, but is he ok with Hermione? He hated her so much at school."

"Not as much as he'd like you to think, and, if he can put his past with Potter and Weasley behind him, then Granger should be no problem. As long, of course, as she allows it, which I'm led to believe is not too likely."

"What do you mean not as much as he'd like us to think?" Ginny asked.

Blaise grinned at her. "It's a standing joke in Slytherin that Draco's secretly very fond of Granger and has been since the Yule Ball in the fourth year – sorry your third year."

"Really? But he was so awful to her still afterwards."

"Well, he has never admitted to having any feelings for her. He gets annoyed with our teasing and denies it, but he denies it a little too much for us to actually believe him."

Ginny tried to get her head around this revelation. "It's so hard to imagine Malfoy harbouring a secret crush on Hermione."

"Oh come on, you never questioned why he was always so horrible to her? Potter and Weasley we could all understand, but Draco was vile to Granger like a little boy who pulls the hair of the little girl he likes."

Ginny thought it over. "You may be on to something but it could also run vice-versa."

"What you mean Granger feeling something for Draco?" Blaise asked skeptically.

"Yep, she's always so vehemently anti-Slytherin, but she loathes Malfoy more than all the rest of you snakes put together. And you know what they say: there's a thin line between love and hate. She hates him with such passion. If you're going to use the same logic on her as you've used on Malfoy, then it speaks volumes, really."

Blaise smirked. "I like the way you think, little Red, and I think the Malfoys-to-be are going to provide me with a lot of entertainment."


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione skulked in the corner, feeling incredibly out of place. Only the Ministry of Magic could want to turn such an important meeting into a social event. It was a completely stupid idea to have a mixer before the actual meeting. Hermione didn’t want to drink and eat appetizers and make small talk with a bunch of snakes she’d spent the better half of eight years pretending didn’t exist. She wanted the meeting to start, and she wanted to know what this stupid curse was that made the Ministry decide to put in place a dumb marriage law and then match her with Draco sodding Malfoy. Hermione tapped her foot impatiently in her dark corner and muttered to herself as she watched her so-called friends laughing and smiling in the centre of the room with their Slytherin other halves. It was pretty disgusting. She could understand Harry’s behaviour, because he’d chosen to date Greengrass and so would obviously want to be spending time with her. But Ginny was looking adoringly up at Blaise Zabini, and it was, frankly, vomit inducing. Ron was making bad jokes to Tracey Davis, who was smiling and looking at him indulgingly as he nabbed any and every canapé that came his way. Was there some kind of cheering potion in the drinks? If so, then why wasn’t it working on her? She could feel her temper rising. She wanted the meeting to start and to not have to go through this bloody pantomime of a drinks evening. 

A tall body blocked her line of vision and Hermione groaned as a cultured accent sneered, “So that’s where my lovely little wife-to-be is hiding herself.”

“Fuck off, ferret, I’m not in the mood.”

“Such a shame, and here I was looking forward to having you hanging off my arm.”

“Is there something you want, or are you just in my face for the pure pleasure of irritating me to death?”

“Whilst it would be deeply amusing to see how much I could annoy you before you exploded into a million tiny pieces of frizzy hair, sadly I have to seek you out in order for us to go through to the meeting. We’re meant to be sitting with our charming spouses,” Draco drawled sarcastically.

“Well, the Ministry knows where it can shove that idea. I’m not sitting next to you and I’m certainly not marrying you,” Hermione snapped, before stalking off into the meeting room alone.

“Always such a pleasure, Granger,” Draco muttered under his breath, before following his contrary fiancée into the room. 

Hermione had deliberately stuck herself against the wall next to Neville Longbottom so that there was no possibility of Malfoy being able to sit next to her. “Hi, Hermione, are you sure you want to sit there? There’s no space for …,” Neville said before trailing off, realising how unlikely it was that she would actually want to accommodate Malfoy.

“That’s the idea, Neville.”

“Shame you didn’t think to see if the seat behind you was empty, sweetness.” Malfoy smirked from behind her.

Hermione whipped her head around and snarled at him. “If you value your life, Malfoy, then I suggest you move to the opposite side of the room.”

Malfoy continued to smirk that hateful smirk at her, before he reached out a hand and mockingly stroked her hair. “She’s a feisty little lioness, isn’t she, Longbottom?”

Neville smiled weakly at Hermione, not wanting to get involved in the argument brewing between the two volatile personalities. Hermione growled and was about to respond when Malfoy opened his mouth. “Now, now, kitten, time to retract those claws. Hestia’s about to start the meeting. You don’t want to delay proceedings even further with one of your famous outbursts, do you?”

Hermione was about to do just that when she caught Harry’s concerned gaze. He shook his head in warning at her. She looked round and saw that many of those present were looking at them, salivating at the thought of her losing her temper and providing them with entertainment. This was exactly what she needed to remind her of where she was. She counted to ten and took several deep breaths before turning back to the front and focusing on Hestia.

“See, it’s not that hard to control yourself. We’ll make you a Malfoy yet,” Malfoy whispered in her ear. He was thoroughly enjoying needling her, the prick. Just ignore the ferret, Hermione chanted to herself several times over whilst practising her deep yoga breaths.

“Good evening and thank you for all attending tonight.” Hestia started the meeting. “I’m really pleased to see a good many of you putting the past behind you and getting on well with those partners you have been matched with.” 

Hermione chuntered under her breath at this and noticed that Hestia, whilst smiling at people like Ginny and Ron, did not let her gaze settle on Hermione. Mind you, that wasn’t that strange; to be fair, Hestia hadn’t let her eyes wander anywhere near Hermione’s direction all evening. She was probably afraid of what would happen, should she accidentally meet her gaze. 

“Now, I know all of you are very eager to hear what this mysterious curse is that has caused the Ministry of Magic to take such drastic measures to force you all to wed those not of your choice. I would like to make it clear that we have not implemented such legislation for fun, and we are sincerely sorry that you have been put in this position. We have spent the last few years trying our hardest to work our way around the curse, but with little luck.”

Hermione’s ears pricked up. So they had been aware of this curse for quite a while. Hermione was struggling to understand why she or Bill hadn’t been consulted about it, then. It seemed to have been kept top secret. It must be really awful, if that was the case.

“Now, as you all may have noticed, the curse has only affected half of those who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and only those who appear to have attended during the worst times of the war. The curse was discovered by the current Headmistress of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall. So I’m going to hand the stage over to her, so she may explain in full detail exactly what we know about this curse,” Hestia finished, looking mightily relieved that her part for the night was over.

Minerva McGonagall stood up from the front row of chairs where she had been sitting and walked up onto the stage. “Thank you for that introduction, Hestia. Good evening. It’s nice to see so many of my former students gathered together, and even nicer to see that so far there have been no casualties.” 

A small ripple of laughter went round the room and more than one pair of eyes fixed wishfully on Hermione and Malfoy. She scowled. She was not some kind of petty entertainment for the masses. 

“As you will have noticed, the only two Hogwarts Houses who have been asked to attend this evening are those of Gryffindor and Slytherin. We also only have a small section of our Gryffindor and Slytherin alumni here. I know you will all be curious as to why only a small section of previous Hogwarts students are seemingly being targeted by this curse, and I am happy to fill you in on this.

A couple of years ago, Rowena Ravenclaw visited me in a dream. She sought me out as the current Headmistress of Hogwarts to inform me that a curse she had put in place during the founding of the school had been activated. She pointed me in the direction of hidden books she had squirreled away in the library,” McGonagall informed them.

Hermione’s ears perked up at this. If the curse wasn’t impacting on her well-being quite so disastrously, she would be in seventh heaven at the thought of the discovery of books from Rowena Ravenclaw’s time. 

“In her journals, she outlines the origins of the curse and how she envisages it being implemented successfully,” McGonagall continued. “After the argument that caused Salazar Slytherin to leave the rest of the founders in charge of Hogwarts, Rowena decided that the school would not survive such a schism again. The enmity between the members of Gryffindor and Slytherin was still strong, but did not bubble to the surface as it had during the argument between the two founders. Rowena consulted Helga Hufflepuff about this continuing problem, and it was decided between the two of them that a curse should be put in place for when such incredibly strong antipathy between any of the four Houses arose again. They thought it would be fitting that such a curse should not look to separate the Houses, but force them to be bound together so such enmity would not spring up again,” McGonagall was forced to halt here as murmuring spread throughout the room at this news. 

Hermione was annoyed at this interruption. She tapped her quill impatiently against her parchment as she waited for the room to quieten down.

“Could you be any more of a bookworm, Granger?” whispered the hateful voice behind her.

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Why are you eagerly scribbling this all down anyway?” he continued.

“So I can break the evil curse and not be bound to you for the rest of my life.”

“Awww, Granger, you’re so mean. I’m heartbroken that you aren’t excited at the prospect of marrying me,” Malfoy mocked.

Hermione turned around to see that irritating smirk and narrowed her eyes in annoyance and distaste. “Piss off, Malfoy.”

McGonagall cleared her throat. “If we could please continue,” she said. The room immediately became silent. “Thank you. I know this is a lot of information to take in, but we will have questions at the end.”

McGonagall took a sip of water. “To continue, Rowena and Helga decided that if open warfare was to break out between any of the Houses at any point, a curse would be triggered that would make it impossible for anyone at Hogwarts during that time to settle down and find love and happiness with anyone apart from someone from the opposing House.”

Whispering broke out amongst the attendees once more. Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully. It was true that not one of her housemates had managed a lasting relationship. Only Luna and Ernie out of her friends were married, and they were from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, respectively.

McGonagall raised her hand once more for silence. “Now, I know what you are all going to say - why the need to force us into a marriage? I realise that many of you would rather die single than marry either a Gryffindor or a Slytherin. However, so did Rowena and Helga, and they designed the curse accordingly. If the generation which triggered this curse does not marry a partner from the other House, then Hogwarts will be magically sealed off and closed forever to future generations of witches and wizards.” There were gasps of shock around the room at this revelation. 

“As you can see, it is only something as awful as this that would make Hogwarts or the Ministry put such a drastic measure in place. That is the curse outlined for you. We have spent the last two years trying our hardest to look at ways to break this curse, but sadly, despite consulting a wide range of curse-breakers, we are no nearer to being able to lift it.”

McGonagall took a deep breath, knowing her next statement would be controversial. “Now, what I will say next will not be popular with many among you, but I have come to see the wisdom of Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses still do not get on, and it’s imperative that we look to break this enmity. I agree that mixing witches and wizards in both Houses, so that children will come from both heritages, is a fine way of solving such a problem. If we manage to have a generation of successful marriages between Gryffindors and Slytherins, then it will go a long way in proving that you are not enemies incapable of getting along. We will now open the floor to questions. I ask you to be patient and to try not to ramble, so that we can answer all of them,” McGonagall said.

Many arms flung into the air, and the long process of answering everyone’s queries begun. Hermione zoned out as many of the questions were uninteresting to her. It wasn’t until she heard George Weasley’s voice that she focused once more.

“How were our partners chosen, and is it possible, if we really disagree on who we’ve been partnered with, to switch?” 

Pansy, who was sitting about as far away from George as she could, shot him a glare, but there was no denying the hopeful spark in her eyes as they turned towards McGonagall.

“We used the Sorting Hat to choose your most suitable partner, which was the suggestion of Rowena Ravenclaw. However much you may disagree, your partners are those most matched to having a successful marriage and, as such, are not open to negotiation.”

Hermione and several others around the room groaned.

“Hoping to escape me that easily?” Malfoy drawled in her ear.

“Like you weren’t hoping to get rid of me either. You could have switched a filthy little Mudblood like me for a pure-blood, at least,” Hermione snarled back.

There was nothing but silence behind her, which was unusual. Hermione turned back to face him to see a serious expression on Malfoy’s face that was completely out of character; well, at least in her dealings with him.

“What?” she asked.

“You shouldn’t presume to think that you know me or my feelings on _Muggle-borns_ these days,” he said, emphasising the correct terminology in place of the insult she used.

“Oh, come off it, Malfoy; you’ve taken great pleasure in flinging that word at me for the duration of our acquaintance.”

“Yes, when I was an immature little brat at school who spouted crap he didn’t fully understand. It’s been eight years since we last spoke to each other, and the wizarding world has changed. You don’t think I’ve changed with it?”

Hermione stopped and looked him in the eye properly for the first time since she’d run into him earlier. There was none of the usual mockery in his grey eyes, which gave Hermione pause to think that maybe he had, in fact, changed. Then she realised just who it was she was speaking to. “Ha! You almost had me for a minute there, Malfoy,” she said rolling her eyes. “As if you’d be pleased to taint your perfect pure-blood lineage,” she scoffed, turning back to McGonagall.

She didn’t see the moment of rage that passed over Draco’s face. _Stupid, stuck-up little swot,_ he thought angrily. Out of everyone, why did he have to be landed with the most stubborn witch ever to exist? Looking at Blaise and the Weaselette, it was clear that she was well on her way to adoring him as much as he’d adored her for the past decade. She wasn’t too stubborn to look beyond the past. Ok, so maybe Blaise didn’t have quite the same nasty history with Ginny as he did with Granger, but it’d be nice if she were at least willing to believe he may have changed. Damn the Malfoy inability to have happy marriages. 

Draco looked around; he was surprised that only a few people seemed genuinely unhappy with their matches. Pansy and George Weasley were looking at each other in the same way that Granger looked at him, which didn’t bode well for either of them. Draco felt sorry for them both. They’d had a difficult eight years and were actually pretty well suited, if they could look beyond their preconceptions of the other. Out of all the Weasleys, George was his favourite. He had a strength that few possessed, which had allowed him to get over the death of his twin and best friend, and actually start to live life again. Draco was pleased Pansy had been matched with him, rather than someone like Thomas or Finnigan. George was the perfect person to help Pansy deal with her many problems, and there were worse people that she could be forced to lean on for support.

‘ _Stop it, Draco_ ’, he said to himself. He needed to stop being so sappy. He’d been spending way too much time in the company of Daphne and Potter, and was turning into a sentimental first-year Hufflepuff witch. Sod it, if Granger didn’t think he was capable of changing, then he might as well have some fun with her. It’d make him feel a damn sight better about a lot of things. Angering Granger always amused him no end. 

“So, Granger, I take it that your hostility means you don’t want to take me home tonight and test out the merchandise,” he mocked, feeling instantly better by needling the uptight Gryffindor.

He watched as her neck went as red as Weasels’ hair, knowing that her face would be exactly the same shade. She spun back around to face him. “You disgusting little pervert,” she spluttered.

“Hmmm, not so little, Granger, or so I’ve been told,” he said, smirking.

Granger stared him in complete shock, and, for once in her life, she was speechless. Draco was enjoying himself hugely. Why had he never thought to rile her up this way back at Hogwarts? ‘ _Probably because you were too hung up on the whole blood thing back then, and remarkably uncreative when it came to insults_ ’, he said to himself.

“I wonder if that hair gets even wilder after you’ve been laid, Granger,” he mused, watching her getting redder and redder with every second of this conversation. She seemed completely incapable of responding. 

“I’m sure we could persuade McGonagall to lend us the use of Hogwarts’ library to further acquaint ourselves with each other. I’d bet that’s one of your fantasies,” he continued, chuckling at her embarrassed response. 

“You sordid creep,” she managed to spit at him before jumping up and knocking Longbottom and several others out of her way in her desire to put as much distance between them as possible.

As she rushed out the door, the whole room turned to look at him. Draco quirked his right eyebrow and smirked, brazening it out.

Up on the stage, McGonagall sighed. She’d almost cried when she saw that particular pairing. If anything could doom Hogwarts, then it was trying to get Hermione Granger to marry Draco Malfoy.  
Previous


	7. Chapter 7

The meeting fell flat after Hermione’s rather melodramatic departure. No one really wanted to ask any more questions afterwards. Instead, they were eager to get outside and start gossiping about what Draco Malfoy could have said to the temperamental former Gryffindor to get her to leave in such a way. The gossip hunters were annoyed that he had managed to slip away. Not that they had much hope of getting the mercurial Malfoy to tell them anything.

Neville found himself besieged with people wanting him to spill what he may have overheard. But he proved to be the loyal friend he’d always been and maintained that he’d overheard absolutely nothing, as he’d been intent on the answers McGonagall was giving. The crowd dispersed, feeling disappointed to have missed out on such juicy gossip. Several unkind comments were hissed about Neville and his lamentable memory but he bore them unfazed, like the self-assured man he’d grown to be. 

Harry waited until it was much quieter before approaching Neville. “Okay, what devastation will be awaiting me when I catch up with Hermione?”

“I’m not quite sure what it was exactly that made Hermione ditch the meeting like that. Malfoy was being his usual obnoxious self and was obviously riling her up using sexual innuendo. But I’ve no idea why she acted that way. I’ve seen her deal with outright nasty sexual harassment from leery old wizards so this should have been a piece of cake for her.” 

Harry and Ron looked at each other, puzzled. Hermione wasn’t at all miss-ish. She’d grown up with two male best friends and been on the run with them for nearly a year. She knew the way boys minds worked, and if Malfoy was acting like a teenager who just discovered he had hormones then she should’ve brushed it off. She had already been through that once with the pair of them. 

Ginny, who’d watched the conversation, looked at them both and rolled her eyes. They were so clueless when it came to the emotions of their female best friend. “I’ve got this, so don’t worry about it,” she said.

\--------

Hermione’s flat was dark when Ginny walked out through the Floo connection but she didn’t bother looking around Hermione’s flat, as she knew she’d find her in her bedroom. That was Hermione’s inner sanctum. And she was right; she found her huddled on the floor in front of her wardrobe, crying her eyes out, which worried the redhead immensely. Hermione only cried on rare occasions when something was seriously wrong.

“Hermione, honey, what’s wrong?” she asked, sinking onto the floor next to her and putting her arm around her friend’s shoulders.

Hermione tried to swallow the sobs and speak but was unable to. She was crying so hard that she was shaking. Ginny had never seen her in such a state.

“Hey, what’s happened?” she asked again, getting more anxious now.

The older witch visibly pulled herself together, managing to stop crying. “I don’t know why I let him affect me like this.”

“Who? Malfoy?”

Hermione nodded. “He was being his usual hideous self and I let him get to me.”

“What exactly did he say?”

“He was being a prat, deliberately embarrassing me by offering to let me, and I quote, ‘test out the merchandise’ and things like that.”

“You’ve dealt with much worse than that,” Ginny pointed out.

“I know. That’s why I don’t know why I reacted so strongly to it. It was just stupid innuendo, nothing malicious or nasty.”

Ginny didn’t really have much to say to that. She could feel that there was something more than Hermione was currently telling her, but she knew better than to push her to reveal it. If her friend wanted her to know then she would tell her in her own time. They sat in silence for a long while. 

Hermione put her head on Ginny’s shoulder and heaved a big sigh. “Ginny?” she asked in a small voice, “Can I tell you something?” 

“Of course, honey, you know you can tell me anything.”

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” she replied, smiling at the childish oath.

“I know why I reacted that way.” 

Hermione stopped, looking nervous and unsure about what she was about to reveal. Recognising that it appeared to be something momentous, Ginny kept quiet.

“During sixth year at Hogwarts, I developed feelings for Malfoy and I don’t mean of the loathing kind.” 

The redhead jumped a little at the revelation, obviously in shock at hearing something so unlikely. 

Hermione put her head in her hands. “I know. It’s crazy, right? It was after Ron got together with Lavender and I was feeling left out and lonely. Harry kept going on about Malfoy being a Death Eater, which made me become aware of him more than I ever had before. So I started to watch him to check if Harry could be right and the next thing I know I’m starting to observe things about him that I hadn’t before; how he’d gone from a confident, outgoing and boastful prat of a boy, to withdrawn and stressed. He seemed vulnerable all of a sudden and I found myself reacting to it. Before I knew it, I was dreaming about him and I’m not talking about the good kind of dreams where I relive punching his ferrety face,” she said, blushing.

Ginny looked at her embarrassed friend and was in little doubt that she meant sexual dreams. 

“Then tonight when he started going on about us being intimate like that, I was so embarrassed. I felt as if he’d tapped into my sixth-year memories,” Hermione continued before falling silent, obviously worried about what Ginny’s reaction would be.

Ginny didn’t really know how to respond to this. She knew that whatever she said or did now would be crucial. It was fairly clear that her bushy-haired friend felt that she’d somehow betrayed Harry by having such feelings. 

“Those feelings are nothing to be ashamed of, Hermione. Besides, it’s not as if anyone other than me knows,” she said.

“You don’t think he knows Legilimency, do you? I know he’s a good Occulmens,” the brunette asked softly.

“I don’t know. I mean, Snape is very skilled at both, but, Hermione, there’s nothing to be upset or embarrassed about. Who didn’t notice Malfoy in sixth year, well before he got all skinny and wraith like? He came back after the summer a different person to the little runt of fifth-year he’d been. He’d shot up about a foot, developed shoulders and muscles and became sexy.”

“But it was Malfoy! And to make matters worse, he was a Death Eater!” Hermione said, upset.

“You didn’t know that. None of us did, and since when did that mean someone couldn’t be attractive? Your feelings were perfectly normal. It was just teenage hormones, nothing more.”

“Why am I being so pathetic about this?”

“Because he was prick to you all through school, and so to have a short infatuation with him is disconcerting. It’s nothing to get upset about. Besides, it was such a long time ago; you really shouldn’t let it get to you anymore.”

“You aren’t angry with me?”

Ginny smiled, “I doubt even Ron or Harry would be upset with you. Sure, they would’ve been revolted back then but we’re wiser now and know that those feelings mean nothing. It’s just a combination of pheromones and hormones.”

Hermione didn’t know whether she should mention that whilst Malfoy had been whispering things in her ear during the meeting, she’d had started reliving some of her sixth-year fantasies. When he’d mentioned the library, she’d been horrified. She had dreamt of such a scenario back then and remembered it when he’d come out and said that.

“I’d just be mortified if he used Legilimency on me and found out about that time of my life,” she said instead.

“I doubt he did because you know that he would have rubbed it in your face if he had invaded your memories.”

“You’re right. I’m completely over-reacting and now I’m angry at myself for being stupid and giving that ferret the reaction he wanted.”

“He did look ridiculously pleased with himself afterwards. But at least you broke up that meeting. It was getting long and tedious.”

“Everyone’s laughing at me _again_ , aren’t they?”

Ginny thought about lying for a brief moment but realised that would just be detrimental in the long run. “A little bit. They were like a bunch of vultures afterwards, circling around Neville trying to get the gossip.”

She groaned. “Do you think I’ll ever stop being so impetuous?”

“Nah, it’s what makes you Hermione. I love that you have all that passion even if it does come out in some insane ways sometimes.”

Hermione rubbed her face, blew her nose and gave the redhead a fierce hug. “You’re the best, Ginny. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Harry and Ron are useless with these emotions and Luna’s too dreamy.”

Ginny started giggling. “Imagine if you’d told Luna. She’d blame it on the Wrackspurts or something.”

She started laughing too, and soon both girls were in hysterics.

\---------

“Draco Malfoy, what is wrong with you?!” Daphne yelled as she stomped out of the Floo connection at Malfoy Manor.

Severus looked up from the latest potions journal he was perusing. “Good evening to you too, Miss Greengrass. If you could please stop screeching, it would be appreciated.”

“Oh hello, sir,” his former pupil said, a little disconcerted by her previous Head of House’s presence. “Er… have you seen Draco?” 

Daphne hated the prickling sensation she got around her former Potions Professor. It always felt as if he was reading her mind.

“I believe he may in the library. He came back about an hour ago, looking immensely pleased with himself.”

“He won’t be feeling so smug once I get my hands on him,” she said fiercely, stalking out of the parlour, leaving her former Professor amused behind her. 

Daphne slammed the door to Malfoy library open. “Draco Malfoy, get your scrawny arse out here now!”

Her irritating friend poked his head out from between some stacks. “Why, Daphne, what a delightful surprise,” he drawled.

“Don’t give me that, you utter prat. I told you to behave yourself for one evening and you couldn’t even do that.”

“I’m sorry - did I miss the part where you turned into my mother?” 

She stamped her foot. “Draco, I begged you to be civil. You said you would try and then you cause a massive scene which will probably be reported in the Daily Prophet tomorrow.”

“You missed the key part of that sentence, Daphne: I said I’d try. I did but failed. I can’t help it - Granger is just too amusing when she gets angry. It’s irresistible.”

“You’re a prat.”

“Since when is that news?” 

“Since you got paired up with Granger. Would it really kill you to try and show her that you’re not such a bad person?”

“Why should I? Besides, she’s become insufferable. She’s hideously prejudiced and stuck in the past. I refuse to go chasing after her, begging her to think that I’m a human being and not evil incarnate.”

“What kind of marriage are the pair of you going to have if you keep this up?”

“Hey, why am I the one getting all the shit? She’s hardly Little Miss Perfect.”

“No, but I didn’t ask her. I asked you. I thought you could do this for me at least. She’s Harry’s best friend and now he’s in a tizzy which is ruining my evening.”

“I’m sorry to be such an inconvenience to your relationship,” he said sarcastically.

“Just behave yourself! We’re all going to Ginny’s opening match of the season on Halloween which means you and Hermione will be in the same vicinity. If you pull a stunt like today again, I’ll make sure you can’t have little Malfoys.”

“Potter’s bad for you, Daph. You’ve become as melodramatic as his little bunch of Gryffindorks,” he replied, completely unimpressed with her threat.

“Just do it for me, Draco. Can you manage that?”

“Will you leave me alone if I say that I’ll be nice to the bushy-haired pain in the arse?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, anything to get rid of you.”

Daphne gave him a radiant smile. “Thank you. You never know, if she saw your nice side, she actually might start to like you back,” she said, then quickly spun around and left the room before Draco could throw something heavy at her.

As she shut the door, she heard the thud as one of the books hit the precise place her head had been just a second ago. “Bloody meddling girl,” she heard him grumble. “It’s so much easier just to have minions. They respect you and don’t answer back and don’t make ridiculous claims about you liking vicious harpies.”

She walked back towards the parlour, amused by Draco’s overhead whinge and gave Severus and Narcissa an angelic smile as she left the Manor.

“Severus, what was that about?” Narcissa asked.

“Who knows? Those former students of mine are always having one crisis or another.”

Narcissa pursed her lips; she knew her husband better than that. “Don’t give me that, you know exactly what happened.”

Severus smiled at her. “I may have picked through her mind when she came storming through here earlier.”

“That’s more like it. Now share!” Narcissa imperiously demanded.

“Yes, ma’am,” Severus smiled at his beautiful wife. “It seems your troublesome son needled Miss Granger into making a scene at the meeting tonight. She stormed out in a huff and Daphne’s upset with him because he promised he’d try to get on with that insufferable know-it-all.”

“I don’t know what the Sorting Hat was thinking to pair those two up. They’ll kill each other.”

“Ah, but think of the entertainment, my dear,” Severus said. 

Narcissa gave a very un-Black-like giggle. “It certainly won’t be quiet around here,” she said, giving her husband a kiss.

“That’s disgusting. Enough with the public displays of affection. That’s my mum you’re violating, Severus.”

“Oh hush, Draco,” Narcissa said, blushing slightly at the look her sardonic son was giving her.

\--------

Ginny got back to the Burrow late that night. She was due back in Wales tomorrow so Harry and Ron were waiting up for her, as she knew they would be.

“How was Hermione?” Ron asked.

“She was okay, apart from feeling foolish for letting Malfoy get to her so much.”

“Did she say why she got so upset?” Harry asked.

Ginny debated whether to tell them about Hermione’s secret infatuation with Malfoy. It might help them push the pair together. She decided against it. Hermione had told her that in strictest confidence and she’d probably be mortified if she knew anyone but Ginny knew about it. Besides, she didn’t believe for a moment that it had been as brief or as light hearted as Hermione claimed. In fact, she’d bet her Quidditch broom that it was the reason why Hermione got so worked up tonight - and in general - whenever Malfoy was mentioned. 

Since her first date with Blaise, where he’d mentioned Malfoy’s latent feelings for Hermione, Ginny couldn’t help but look at their relationship in a whole new light. And Hermione’s passionate response to Malfoy could easily be suppressed desire.

“She did but I can’t tell you,” she replied.

Both boys gave her scathing looks, “Come on, Gin, we might be able to help if we know,” Ron pleaded.

“That’s true but I’ll also be betraying Hermione’s confidence and I don’t want to. She’s going to feel betrayed enough when she finds out that the pair of you have been friends with Malfoy behind her back.”

Ron banged his head on the table. “Will everyone stop reminding us about that? It’s started to give me sleepless nights.”

“And so it should. It’s shameful the way that you’ve lied to someone who, to all extent and purposes, is your sister,” she scolded.

Harry and Ron look guiltily down at the floor and she sighed. She was going to get nowhere with this and doubted they’d ever get the guts to confess to Hermione. Woe to them if she found out, though.

“Anyway, I thought you’d said Malfoy had changed,” she said, changing the subject. “He appeared to be his usual prattish self tonight.”

“I know, but then Hermione affects Draco the same way that he does her. They seem incapable of even being in the same room without fighting,” Harry said.

“Well, I’m hoping the outing to my Quidditch game will help mend some bridges, and not only with Hermione and Malfoy. George looks like he needs help in coming to terms with Parkinson.”

Ron sniggered, “Poor bugger. Fancy pulling her out of the Hat.”

“At least she no longer resembles a pug,” was all Ginny said before giving them both a kiss on the cheek and turning in for the night.

\--------

Hermione sheepishly knocked on Professor McGonagall’s office. She had come to apologise for her behaviour the evening before. Her stern ex-Transfiguration professor waved her into the office and Hermione looked around; gone were the many fascinating and unusual artefacts that Dumbledore had kept along with Fawkes. Instead it was the organised, clean office that was to be expected from Minerva McGonagall. Hogwarts’ Headmistress gestured for her to sit in one of the seats before her desk. Hermione hadn’t felt this nervous since her school days. It was almost as if she had been sneaking around the castle after hours again.

“Professor, I’m so sorry about yesterday. I know I shouldn’t let Draco Malfoy get to me, but I guess old habits die hard and it’s difficult not to react.”

McGonagall smiled at her favourite former pupil. “Hermione, I think you can call me Minerva. We did fight a war together. I forget how many times I tell you this each time I see you.”

“It’s sitting here in front of you back at Hogwarts. It’s like I’ve been caught out for some misdemeanour and am waiting for your punishment.”

“If you and Mr Malfoy had pulled that stunt here then undoubtedly the two of you would be facing a series of detentions and some severe house point deductions. But you didn’t.”

Hermione laughed at this. “I wanted to ask you some questions but wasn’t keen on asking them in front of everyone last night.”

“I thought you might have some for me especially after Hestia filled me in on your… er… conversation with her on Monday.”

Hermione had the shame to blush. Her actions always seemed so much worse in front of McGonagall. It didn’t help that she looked up to Headmistress, who’d always been something of a role model for her. 

“I must admit, I was more than a little surprised when your name was paired with that of Draco Malfoy. I didn’t think the Sorting Hat would match the two of you with your explosive history.”

“Is there anyway that I can get out of marrying him?”

The older witch sighed. “I really wish there was but sadly the pairings are concrete according to the dictates laid down by Rowena Ravenclaw. The Sorting Hat has matched according to the most compatible personality, intelligence and traits. If you do refuse to marry Mr. Malfoy then the curse will be completed and Hogwarts will have to close.”

Hermione felt torn. On the one hand, she didn’t think she could go through with marrying the ferret but on the other, she didn’t want to deprive generations of future children the joy of being educated at Hogwarts - even future Slytherins. 

“I’m in such a quandary about this. I love Hogwarts and I don’t want to deny anyone the ability to learn here but to be tied to Malfoy is something I’m not sure I can do.”

“I don’t want to force you to do something that goes against your conscience. I just ask that you think it over, Hermione.”

“If it was anything other than Hogwarts I would outright refuse but this place is special. Is there no other way that we can break the curse?”

“I haven’t found a way yet. I’ve had some of the best curse breakers on the case but we’ve had no luck.”

“I’ve got Bill Weasley offering to help me out. Would you mind if I had a go at it?” 

“Of course not. But as I said earlier: I was at first opposed to the idea but as I’ve read through Rowena’s journal, the more I think she was on to something. I’m happy to lend them to you and Bill to see if you can come up with anything new.”

Hermione smiled excitedly. “Oh, would you? That would be amazing. Her journals must be fascinating.”

McGonagall smiled and nodded in agreement.

“I’m also curious as to the time-span for all the pairs to get married,” Hermione said.

“That is something that the Ministry and I are still working on. So far, there doesn’t appear to be a time limit in fulfilling the curse. We’re trying to give you all enough time to get to know your future spouses in as little pressurised manner as possible,” McGonagall replied.

Hermione nodded. At least this gave her some time to break the curse.

McGonagall was pleased to see the enthusiasm on her former pupil’s face. It had been missing for a while now. “Maybe, instead of spending time looking into the curse, you could spend time trying to get to know Mr. Malfoy.”

“I know everything I already want to know about that man,” she scowled.

The Headmistress looked at her over her spectacles. “Are you sure? For example, has it never struck you as odd that you haven’t once been called to Malfoy Manor to inspect the conditions of their house-elves?”

This was something that she had noticed, as she had anticipated sweeping back into Malfoy Manor in a much more regal manner than being dragged around by her hair by Bellatrix and freeing the poor house-elves there. If Dobby’s treatment had been anything to go on, they were probably a mistreated, downtrodden lot. She’d been severely disappointed when the call to inspect the Manor had never come. 

“I must admit, it’s something that has crossed my mind a few times.”

“That’s because the first thing Mr. Malfoy did when he took up control of the Manor was free all of his elves and offer them fair pay and holidays.”

“Really? Well that does surprise me. Especially with how Dobby was treated.”

“You may want to consider the fact that the war had a profound affect on Mr. Malfoy and his Slytherin contemporaries. They were young, impressionable and brought up to think a certain way. But Draco Malfoy is not his father. The fact that he was such an unsuccessful Death Eater is ample proof of that.”

Hermione really didn’t want to think about that. She liked the status quo and liked to think that Malfoy had been such a rotten Death Eater because he was just a snivelling coward, not because he struggled with the reality of such a life. “I guess so,” she said reluctantly.

McGonagall smiled at stubborn woman in front of her. She knew not to push Hermione too far but felt that she had given her something to think about.

“Well, it might be an idea to think a little more about that. I’ll just go and retrieve the journals for you from Madam Pince.”

Hermione sighed. She wished that this curse had never been revealed. She had been perfectly happy with her life until that letter from the Ministry arrived. Now, she knew all kinds of things that she wished she didn’t. Harry was dating a Slytherin and people kept telling her to give Draco Malfoy a chance. She wasn’t sure she could cope with this.


	8. Chapter 8

Halloween dawned clear and bright. Harry travelled by Floo Network over to Malfoy Manor early to give Draco the tickets for Ginny’s opening game of the season so he could pass them on to the Slytherin crew. 

Snape was sitting in the parlour, drinking a cup of coffee and scribbling in a notebook.

“Potter,” he scowled as Harry appeared in the fireplace.

“Professor Snape,” Harry replied. He still couldn’t get over the fact that he ran into Severus Snape on a regular basis. He continued to feel awkward in the sullen ex-Professor’s presence, especially after he had recovered from the wounds inflicted on him by Lord Voldemort, but after Harry had seen his memories.

“Is Draco around?” Harry asked, shuffling his feet.

Severus pointedly looked at Harry’s feet before sneering, “Draco is in the study with Zabini. I believe they are going over a potential new potion for the company.”

Harry nodded and gratefully escaped Snape’s company. 

Severus smiled cruelly at the hastily departing Gryffindor. He loved making Potter feel out of his depth.

Harry knocked on Draco’s study door before opening it. “Merlin’s beard, Draco, your stepdad gets creepier the older he gets. I wish he wouldn’t use the parlour as his lair.”

Draco smirked at the uncomfortable Chosen One and put down his quill. “He likes to discompose those dropping by. He always gets an extra kick out of it if it is either you or Weasley.”

“Well, he manages.”

“He knows, which makes your reaction all the more satisfying to him.”

Harry flushed, hating the fact that he was so easy to read. He decided to turn the tables a little. “What the hell was wrong with you the other night?”

“What?” Draco asked.

“Daphne is really angry with you. She’s been muttering about your behaviour ever since and, believe me, I don’t appreciate your name coming up that regularly,” Harry said.

“Is she screaming out ‘Draco’ at inappropriate moments, Potter?” the former Slytherin smirked.

He glared at the annoying blond, who could be such a brat at times.

Blaise just rolled his eyes. “He’s been like this all morning,” he informed Harry.

“How come I’m getting all the shit for Granger’s behaviour?” Draco complained.

“You’re getting all the grief because you said you’d behave but you caused Hermione to storm out of the meeting.”

“When you get that stubborn crazy woman you call a friend to behave, I’ll follow suit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked.

“I was trying to be pleasant and follow the Ministry rules but all she did was snap and bitch at me, so I got bored of playing nice. If she’s going to throw shit around then I’ll do it too,” Draco said.

“That’s mature,” Harry replied.

“Go bug _her_ about this. She’s the one with a problem - not me.”

“I know she has a problem and I want to get her the help that she needs but it will be impossible to do so if you continue to be such a prick.”

Blaise smirked at his sulking blond friend. He loved to see Harry lecture him; it was so amusing considering their history.

“Fine, I promise you what I promised Daphne on Thursday: I’ll behave tonight.”

“You’d better, Malfoy, because otherwise Hermione might actually kill you.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You Gryffindors are so melodramatic.”

“Says you, the most over-dramatic person I know,” Harry responded.

\--------

Ginny’s first game of the season possibly hosted the strangest group of ‘friends’ to gather to watch a game of Quidditch. Besides the usual congregation of Weasleys plus Harry, Hermione, Luna, Neville and some of Ginny’s old Gryffindor Quidditch teammates, there were a large number of Slytherins led by Daphne and Blaise. Hermione wasn’t too pleased to see that Draco was included in the outing and George wasn’t too sure how he should feel about the inclusion of Pansy. So far, they had managed to successfully avoid each other but this wasn’t going to be practical for long. Also included was Theodore Nott, who had cheered up significantly since Harry and Ron had last seen him.

“What’s got you so cheerful, Nott?” Harry asked when Hermione was safely out of earshot. “Last time I spoke to you, you were bemoaning that fate had landed you with Lavender Brown.”

“It seems McGonagall and Jones made a mistake! They messed up duplicating the list for the Ministry and managed to switch Greg and me around. So I didn’t get Brown after all, but the infinitely more appealing prospect of Katie Bell,” Theo crowed happily before beckoning his wife-to-be over.

Draco felt a little self-conscious coming face to face with Katie again. Although he had sent an owl apologising to her after the war for almost killing her with the cursed necklace back in his sixth year, he still felt incredibly guilty about the incident.

“Guys, I’m not sure if you met Katie apart from on the Qudditch pitch. Katie, this is Draco and Blaise. Blaise and Draco, meet the future Mrs. Nott,” Theo said proudly, putting his arm around her. “Oh… stupid me, I forgot that you nearly killed her, Draco.”

Blaise covered his eyes with his hands whilst Draco just snarled, “Fuck off.”

Katie, as unfazed as a girl who’d spent six years on the Hogwarts Quidditch team with the Weasley twins could be, just cuffed Theo around the head. “Idiot!” she admonished. “Malfoy’s already apologised to me for that so there’s no need to go around bringing up ancient history. Besides, aren’t you meant to be his friend?”

Theo, physically wilting under the death stare Draco was sending him, just muttered a quiet “sorry,” before subsiding in his seat and keeping out of the murderous blond’s way.

“I am truly sorry that you got hurt though, Bell,” Draco said, thinking it was a good time to issue a verbal apology. 

She smiled at him kindly. “Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t deliberately set out to hurt me. Besides, the whole point of this curse is for us to move on.”

“It’s very good of you to be that understanding,” he continued stiffly. He hated having to do this crap. It wasn’t the Malfoy way to apologise or be nice but he owed it to this girl to relax the rule. 

He was pleased when the teams emerged, ending the awkward silence that had followed this exchange.

\---------

Hermione glowered at Malfoy, sitting on the opposite side of her. “I can’t believe Harry and Ron didn’t tell me he was coming,” she hissed to Luna.

“They probably knew you’d find some kind of excuse to get out of it if they did tell you,” the dreamy blonde reasoned.

“It’s unfair to spring him on me. No, in fact, it’s unfair to include him in the same group as me. I really hate him.”

“Yes, yes, we all know. Slytherins are evil and Malfoy is the spawn of the devil,” Luna said with an impatience she rarely showed. 

Hermione looked at her in some shock. 

“Well, really, Hermione, you need to start getting over this obsession you have with the Slytherins. Anyone would think that all this stubborn hatred you harbour towards Malfoy is just a front for a crush.”

She opened her mouth and closed it, looking rather like a bemused goldfish. Luna was cutting a little close to the bone, especially after her admission to Ginny the other night. “Don’t be ridiculous, Luna. How could anyone find that hideous cockroach attractive?”

Luna just gave her a knowing look and turned her attention back to the game. 

Hermione huffed, crossed her arms over her chest and stared steely towards the pitch. She hated it when Luna became insightful. It was disturbing and horrible when it was turned against you. Anyway, she’d had a brief crush on the ferret when she’d been clearly out of her mind back in sixth year. It was mainly Ron’s fault that she had been driven to such desperate measures because she was trying to cope with seeing him eating Lavender’s face everyday when she’d liked the redhead for years! 

She felt someone staring at her and turned her head away from where she was looking (but not paying any attention to), to the game and met the steady gaze of Pansy Parkinson. Why anyone had thought it was a good idea to bring her was anyone’s guess. She supposed it probably was the same reason she and Draco were being included in the same group. The misguided idea that if you throw two people together enough they’ll eventually break down and start liking each other was rubbish. 

Hermione raised her eyebrows in question at Parkinson’s gaze and the girl flushed and turned back to watching the game. _More like watching Draco out of the corner of her eye_ , Hermione thought snidely to herself. The former Slytherin witch was probably contemplating suicide because she wasn’t marrying Malfoy. Hermione wished that Parkinson were marrying him. She certainly didn’t want to be tied to him.

And now she was developing a full-scale migraine and she knew where to land the blame: on that bloody platinum ferret.

\---------

Pansy turned away from the belligerent curly-haired witch and contemplated what on earth was going on. She had just been getting her life together and now it felt as if it was all going downhill again. It’d taken her years to come to terms with the new reality and when she’d started to feel as if she was finally catching up with the rest of the wizarding world and moving on from Draco, this happened.

She was genuinely curious as to how Draco and Granger would work. Hogwarts and the Ministry couldn’t have come up with a more explosive partnership. Pansy sighed and looked towards her own Ministry matched partner, George Weasley. He’d barely spoken a word to her since she’d turned up at the meeting the previous Thursday. She’d been pleasantly surprised when she’d seen him again. He’d turned into an attractive man. He didn’t have the gangly build of his brother, Ron, but was shorter and much more muscular. He even managed to carry off his missing ear with a rakish charm that screamed war hero. But that wasn’t matched in his personality. He was surly and ungracious.

Blaise and Theo had dragged her to this match, insisting that she make an effort. So far that was falling flat. The redhead was stubbornly refusing to come near her and the uncomfortable feeling was just building rather than dissipating. She couldn’t remember feeling more miserable - and that included those terrible few months after the war ended when she’d been spat at in Diagon Alley, and Draco had told her that she didn’t stand a chance with him. 

“Pansy,” Blaise hissed, “could you look any more miserable?”

“I’m trying, Blaise, but I’m not as comfortable as you are here. I feel incredibly out of place and Weasley is refusing to even look at me.”

“I’ll speak to Ginny after the game and she’ll sort it out.”

“What do you mean after the game?”

“We’re all going back to Molly’s for food.”

“You didn’t tell me that. I thought I just had to suffer through this match and then I could disappear,” Pansy wailed quietly.

“Stop moaning, woman. Do you want to turn up on your wedding day never having had a meaningful conversation with George?” 

“No,” she whined pitifully. “But I don’t want to remain here, either.”

“Look, Molly is going to be your mother-in-law. She’s the all-powerful matriarch and if she doesn’t like you then none of her children ever will.”

“Great, you’re really selling this after-party to me. I’m thinking of fleeing now whilst I still can,” she said.

“Don’t worry, Molly’s a sweetheart. Her bark is definitely worse than her bite and if she can bring herself to mother Draco then you’ll have no problem.”

“‘Mother Draco’?”

“Draco has Molly wrapped around his little finger. Ron and Harry were looking forward to her screaming at him - in true Mother Weasley fashion - for all the hell he gave her kids, but he turned up all woebegone and pathetic looking. Ron tells me that she took one look at his very un-Malfoy-ish expression and melted. Harry said she enveloped him in a big hug and they had Draco smirking over her shoulder at them.”

Pansy cracked a smile for the first time that evening. “That sounds like Draco,” she said dryly. “He always could charm the ladies.”

Blaise smirked evilly. “All except his wife-to-be. Granger’s having none of it and is moving heaven and earth to try and get out of marrying him.”

Pansy looked back towards the brunette, who was pouting whilst pretending to watch the game. “If anyone can get us out this mess, then my money’s on Granger.”

“I thought that information would make you more inclined to like her.”

“Why would I not like her?” Pansy asked curiously. “I mean, besides our dodgy Hogwarts history and the fact that she detests all Slytherins.”

“Because she’s marrying Draco,” Blaise said.

Pansy looked at him scathingly. “I know you all like to view me as Draco’s infinitely pathetic fan-girl but I have news for you, Blaise: I’m over him and have been for a while now.”

“Why haven’t you come back to Britain, then?”

“Believe it or not, I actually like teaching and I like Durmstrang, even if it is much colder than Hogwarts. My students actually respect me and it’s nice to be away from all those expectations people have about how I should be behaving or what I should believe.”

“I understand that.”

“Good, because I want the idea that I’m pining away for Draco like some feeble, wretched witch gone. I love him, but not in that way. I realise that I’d fallen in love with an idea and not actually him.”

Blaise slung his arm around her. “Good for you. You deserve someone who’ll worship you and not completely take you for granted.”

Pansy looked over at her redheaded sort-of fiancé. “Yeah. Well, sadly, it seems I’m getting someone who won’t just take me for granted, but who actually hates me as well.”

\--------

Ginny’s team won but the outing couldn’t be called a success by any standard. It’d failed to bring either Pansy and George or Draco and Hermione any closer together. Harry and Daphne surveyed the fragmented group and felt disheartened at the task ahead of them.

“Why can’t they just be like Blaise and Ginny?” Harry moaned to his girlfriend, as they sat waiting for Ginny to emerge in the players’ bar. 

“Because that would be too easy and when has your life ever been easy?”

“You know, it really sucks that after defeating Voldemort I still have to deal with all this political shit, but this time it’s worse because it’s between my friends.”

Daphne had her ‘I told you so’ expression but before she could open her mouth to inform Harry about how right she’d been, he responded, “Yeah, yeah, I know, if I’d confronted Hermione earlier about you and made her come along to some of our parties, this wouldn’t be happening blah, blah, blah.”

Daphne cuffed her annoying fiancé around the head. “You should be showing the future Mrs. Potter a lot more respect than that.”

Harry’s gaze softened. “I like the sound of that, Mrs. Potter-to-be,” he said before giving her a lingering kiss.

“Hey, enough of that, I’m trying to keep my snack down.”

“Mate, did I not tell you that we’re going back to the Burrow for dinner?” Harry asked Ron.

“Yeah, but I was hungry.”

Harry raised his eyebrow at his glutinous friend. “I can’t believe you grew up with Molly’s cooking but still stuff your face with those revolting meat pies.”

“That was my appetiser,” Ron protested.

“There’s something wrong with you. Your mum cooks the best food and makes mountains of it, why would you need an appetiser?”

Ron just looked at Harry as if he was mad. Food was important at all times of the day.

“By the way, have you dropped it on Hermione yet that the Slytherins are coming back to Burrow with us?” Ron asked, eager to change the subject from his eating habits.

“What, and give her a chance to skedaddle out of here as quickly as she can?”

Daphne looked at her beloved in amazement. “You really do have a death wish when it comes to Hermione, don’t you?”

“But she’ll refuse to come if she knows.”

“You know, you might want try being a little bit honest with her. She’s going to have a big enough hissy fit as it is when she realises that you’ve been all chummy with Draco for the past year.”

Ron and Harry both shuddered at the idea of Hermione finding out - it was not going to be pretty. Harry felt a pang of guilt. Daphne was right. It didn’t feel right continually lying to Hermione but she was too bloody scary for her own good. They had no chance against her if she decided to actually hex them instead of just threatening to. 

“The pair of you really are pathetic,” Daphne said scathingly before going off to sit next to Pansy who was alone in the corner.

“Your girlfriend has a nasty tongue on her,” Ron complained.

“Yep, she sure does. Unfortunately for us, she tends to be right most of the time.”

\-------

True to form, Hermione was less than impressed when she realised that they wouldn’t be saying goodbye to the Slytherins after the game.

“What do you mean they are coming to the Burrow with us?” she asked menacingly. 

“Well, we thought it would be a nice idea.”

“A nice idea? Are you completely insane?”

“No, that’d be you,” Ron murmured. 

Lucky for Ron, Hermione didn’t hear him, as she was too busy ranting at Harry. 

“I can’t believe you are just springing this on me now. I didn’t even want to come tonight but you emotionally blackmailed me about not being there to support Ginny’s first game of the season. Now you follow that up by conveniently leaving out information about who was coming to dinner at the Burrow.”

Harry shuffled his feet guiltily. “I didn’t want you not to come.”

“I’m not coming now.”

Fortunately for the two hapless boys, Ginny appeared, freshly showered and changed. 

“You aren’t coming?”

“Come on, Ginny, I don’t want to have to sit down and spend the evening with those Slytherin gits.”

“Well for starters, missy, one of those ‘Slytherin gits’ is going to be my husband and father to my children so you better start getting used to his presence. Secondly, stop acting like a big baby. You complain that Harry and Ron didn’t tell you who was coming back to the Burrow… Well, your behaviour right now is probably the reason,” the redheaded witch lectured with her hands on her hips.

Hermione hung her head slightly in the glare of Ginny’s Molly-inspired dressing down but she quickly rallied. “I already spent enough time with them today. I was good and made conversation with Daphne.”

“Saying ‘hello’ and ‘how are you’ does not constitute a conversation, Hermione,” Harry pointed out.

Ginny linked her arm through Hermione’s and frog marched her towards the fireplace. “I’m not taking any crap from you tonight. You will come back, you will eat, drink and be merry and you will sit there and make conversation with the Slytherins.”

She tried dragging her heels but Ginny was freakishly strong and Hermione had never been the athletic type. They reached the fireplace where Floo powder and Hermione were flung into it. Ginny sternly said, “The Burrow,” and Hermione disappeared.

“Wow, the Weaselette is impressive,” Theo remarked to Blaise and Draco.

Draco smirked at his tall, dark friend. “You’ve got your work cut out for you there, Blaise.”

“Nah, Ginny’s a pussycat. Just make her think you’re doing what she wants and she’s happy,” Blaise said, ever the manipulative Slytherin. “Besides, as she’s the only one who seems able to manage Granger, you should be pleased she’s marrying me.”

“Fancy moving to the Manor? She could keep Granger in check at all time,” Draco asked, tongue-in-cheek.

\-------

Once they were all settled at the Burrow, Ginny dragged George and Hermione into the living room. “Listen to me, you pair of stubborn arses, stop being so pig-headed and go and speak to your intended.”

George just looked at his little sister. “What? Parkinson? She’ll hardly want to speak to a blood traitor.”

Ginny gave him a glare that Molly herself couldn’t have bettered. “She’s miserable and feeling left out. Be a man and make the first move. I guarantee she won’t reject your olive branch.”

George stomped back out to the kitchen, muttering about jumped up, meddling little sisters. He had no plans to actually listen to Ginny.

“Don’t even go there with me, Ginny. I came and I’ll sit there but if you think I’m talking to that evil prat then you have another think coming, especially after the stunt he pulled the other day,” Hermione snapped.

Ginny realised that she wasn’t going to be able to strong-arm Hermione any further tonight. “Okay, well go and make an effort with Blaise or someone.” She saw Hermione’s incredulous look. “Please… for me. You’re my best friend and he’s going to be part of my life, which means that he’s going to be part of your life.”

Hermione groaned. “You Weasleys are evil with the emotional blackmail. Okay, for you,” she emphasised. “I’ll go and make an effort with Zabini.”

Ginny gave her a radiant smile. “Thank you, Hermione, I really appreciate it.”

\----------

Molly and Arthur surveyed the diverse group in their kitchen with amusement. They were happy to see that Ron and Ginny were leading efforts to integrate everyone, although Molly was less than impressed with George’s skulking in the corner. Her remaining twin was doing a good job at ignoring Ginny’s attempted strong-arm tactics to make him speak to Pansy.

She looked towards her soon-to-be daughter-in-law. “If George is going to continue to ignore that poor girl, I guess it’s up to me to welcome her,” she murmured to Arthur.

“I think that’s a really good idea, love.”

Molly walked over to the young former Slytherin. “Hello, dear, I’m Molly,” she said kindly.

Pansy smiled tremulously at her. “Hello, I’m Pansy.”

“I see that silly, stubborn boy of mine is being less than gracious towards you.”

Pansy wasn’t too sure of how to respond. She didn’t know many parents who would walk up to a child of a previous enemy and start berating their own child to them. 

“Come with me,” Molly said, grabbing Pansy’s hand and dragging her over to George.

“George Weasley, your manners are atrocious. I did not bring you up to be such a boorish oaf!” 

George looked shamefaced at his mum and Pansy couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of the taller, stocky man being thoroughly ticked off. George flashed her an irritated glare.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t help it. It’s just so funny seeing you so cowed.”

“I am not cowed,” George replied, annoyed.

“Of course you aren’t, dear,” Molly interjected. “Now go and show Pansy where she can wash her hands before dinner,” she continued, feeling very pleased at her work in getting the two to at least talk. 

George stalked out of the kitchen without even checking to see if Pansy was following or not.

Pansy smiled her thanks and gratitude that her future mother-in-law was so generous in nature.

Molly put her hand on Pansy’s arm. “Don’t let him give you any grief. The Weasley men know not to mess with a strong woman.” 

Pansy hurried out after George but she couldn’t find him in the gloom of the hallway. “Weasley?” she called but there was no answer. 

“George? Where are you?” she called a little louder.

She heard thumping down the stairs and an impatient George Weasley stuck his head over the banister. “Merlin’s beard, woman, hurry yourself up.”

Mindful of Molly’s advice, she put her hands on her hips and scowled at the taller wizard. “George Weasley, I will not put up with being ignored and then grouched at for being polite and not stomping off without saying anything to your mother.”

George’s eyebrows rose at the feisty Slytherin. At least she wasn’t taking his behaviour lying down, which he respected much more than a doormat.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t attack, Parkinson. I left my wand in the kitchen,” he teased.

Pansy smiled and shook her head. “You don’t even have one of your fake wands on you?”

George goggled at her. “You know about those?”

She rolled her eyes, “We Slytherins may not have liked you Weasleys but it didn’t stop us from buying Weasley Wizarding Wheezes merchandise. They’re genius. However, they’re also the bane of my life as a teacher at Durmstrang.”

He saluted, his mischievous nature coming to the fore. “Glad that Fred and my plans of disturbing the successful running of all schools is going strong.”

This made her giggle. “You could say that. The caretaker at Durmstrang makes Filch look like a sweet little puppy so the students take great pleasure in using your products to make his life a misery.”

George looked at Pansy properly for the first time since he’d read his letter. He’d never been more than vaguely aware of her at Hogwarts, and that was only because she seemed permanently attached to Malfoy’s arm. But he was surprised to see that she’d grown into her looks, looking a lot less like a pug and more like a pretty young woman.

\--------

Hermione could feel Ginny’s eyes boring a hole in her back. She thought about going over to talk to Arthur but knew that her friend would just drag Zabini over to her so she bit the bullet and slowly walked up to the handsome man.

“Hello, Zabini,” she reluctantly said.

The former eyebrow’s rose in surprise at her actively seeking him out. She noticed as he looked behind her before chuckling. “Ginny forced you to come over here, didn’t she?”

“How did you guess?” Hermione responded sarcastically. 

“What was the threat? I think it’s a good idea to try and work out her methods before she starts using them on me.”

“It was either talk to you or Malfoy.”

“I’m disappointed. That’s not much of choice. Who’d want to talk to that sulky blond over me?”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile at that. It was very much against her will but he could be charming when he wanted. 

Encouraged, Blaise leant down and whispered in her ear, “You know, he’s not that bad.”

“Don’t push your luck, Zabini.”

He held his arms up in surrender. “Oh please don’t hurt me, O Great Granger.” 

“At least you have a sense of humour. You’ll need it with this lot as your in-laws.”

“The Weasleys are great,” he said, causing her eyebrows to rise in shock. “And think of the fun I’m going to have with the Weasel as my brother-in-law.”

Hermione couldn’t help but grin a little at that. Ron was always the butt of his family’s jokes and it appeared that his brother-in-law wasn’t going to treat him any differently.

\----------

Molly smiled as she came across Draco. “Draco, dear, it’s been ages since you’ve been here with Harry and Ron.”

Unfortunately for her youngest son and his best friend, the Weasley matriarch managed to say this incriminating sentence whilst the room quietened down for a brief second. 

Hermione’s eyes flashed from Molly beaming at Malfoy to her reddening friends, who had guilt written all over their faces. 

“Are either of you going to explain to me what Molly means?” she asked quietly, sounding all the more threatening for it.


	9. Chapter 9

_Molly smiled as she came across Draco. “Draco, dear, it’s been ages since you’ve been here with Harry and Ron.”_

_Unfortunately for her youngest son and his best friend, the Weasley matriarch managed to say this incriminating sentence whilst the room quietened down for a brief second._

_Hermione’s eyes flashed from Molly beaming at Malfoy to her reddening friends, who had guilt written all over their faces._

_“Are either of you going to explain to me what Molly’s means?” she asked quietly, sounding all the more threatening for it._

The silence in the kitchen of the Burrow was deafening as Hermione narrowed her eyes dangerously at her two guilty friends.

“Are you telling me that Granger didn’t know Draco was ‘friends’ with Potter and Weasley?” Pansy whispered to George, putting the word friends in quotation marks because she was still trying to get her own head around that strange triumvirate.

“Nope,” George replied. “They’ve been sneaking off to see their Slytherin friends secretly without Hermione’s knowledge. She only just found out Harry was dating Greengrass and that was only because he was nervous about her realising their behaviour was too loving for people supposedly reacquainting themselves after eight years apart.”

“I thought you Gryffindors were meant to be the brave ones?” she scoffed. “Daphne told me about dating Potter years ago and that was with my inability to adapt to new situations.”

He smiled as he took in Pansy’s shining face. Maybe Ginny was right and all Pansy needed was an olive branch to show that she wasn’t the same girl she had been back at Hogwarts. 

“When you put it that way, it does seem very cowardly of them.” He didn’t comment on the rest of her sentence, trying to process the idea that maybe she wasn’t as opposed to him as he had thought.

Pansy giggled quietly, not wanting to gain Hermione’s attention. She didn’t think the Gryffindor brunette would think twice about hexing her. “Well, this evening just got a whole lot more interesting. A galleon that she hexes Weasley before Potter - your dumb brother never knew when to shut his mouth.”

He tilted his head as he looked at his intended spouse. “You’re on if I can change Harry to Malfoy. He’s daft enough to think that this is the ideal place to rile Hermione up further.”

She thought for a minute, before nodding her head and sticking out her hand for him to shake. He took it and smiled mischievously at the raven-haired Slytherin. Maybe life with her wouldn’t be so bad.

\---------

“Well,” Hermione said angrily, “are you not going to say anything?”

Molly stepped in and attempted to play peacekeeper. “Hermione, dear, why don’t we take this conversation through to the living room? I’m sure Ron and Harry will be happy to discuss this with you without an audience.”

“Molly, I’m not moving until they explain what on earth you meant.”

“I’m sure they’ve just had contact with Draco because of Harry’s relationship with Daphne,” the older witch said.

“Yes,” Ginny said, interjecting. “Daphne, of course, has been over to the Burrow many times to meet mum and dad. You know they are the closest thing Harry has to parents.”

Hermione’s steely gaze didn’t move from Harry and Ron. “Are you really going to hide behind Molly and Ginny and not attempt to explain anything to me yourself?”

Harry recognised the signs that Hermione was becoming enraged and knew he had to speak in order to defuse the situation before it got dangerously out of hand. Unfortunately for him, before he could open his lips, Malfoy decided that now would be a good time to remind Hermione of his existence.

“I guess the dirty secret is out now,” he drawled, clearly amused. “Sorry to inform you, Kitten, but your boys have been consorting with evil,” he said pointing to himself, “for at least a year now. They even come over to the Manor - although Severus feels the same about their presence there as you appear to.”

Hermione continued to stare at Harry and Ron with betrayal clearly showing in her big, brown eyes. “How could you lie to me like that?” she whispered at them before turning away to walk over to the fireplace. 

She took a handful of Floo powder and was about to disappear before she caught sight of the smug, smirking face of Malfoy. She hit the blond with a Stinging Hex to his face, followed by a Tickling Charm before leaving the Burrow in a flare of green flames.

“I’d say less of a kitten and definitely more like a lioness,” Blaise commented to his friend writhing on the floor, who was laughing and groaning at the same time.

George grinned at the sight of Malfoy clearly in pain and put his hand out to Pansy to collect his unexpected bounty.

“Stupid, bloody prat,” Pansy muttered as she dug in her purse for the required amount.

\-------

Hermione whipped through her small flat like a hurricane. She threw enough things into a bag to last her a few days. She didn’t want to stay here, as she knew that Harry and Ron would try and catch up with her at some point and really didn’t want to hear it. She caught sight of the framed pictures on her mantelpiece and the tears welled up in her eyes. She stopped for a few minutes contemplating their friendship as she looked at happier times with her boys and wondered when they’d decided it was easier lying to her rather than actually bothering to explain things. Her heart hardened as she thought about the fact that they had been consorting with Malfoy for the past year. She pulled her wand out and blew the pictures up, feeling nothing but anger and sadness. Tugging her bag behind her, Hermione left her flat and Apparated into the back garden of her parents’ house.

She had personally seen to it that the wards around the house were as strong as they needed to be even during peacetime. Her parents were her weak point and had no magic with which to defend themselves. So she’d made sure that she was the only magical being who could Apparate in and out of the property and she’d never been more pleased about this than now. No one could hunt her down here without having to use the usual Muggle method of knocking on the front door, and good luck in attempting to get past her dad.

Matthew Granger had played Rugby Union back in the days when it had been an amateur game. He’d never been good enough to play for one of the top teams like Bath or Leicester Tigers but he’d had a good run at the level below. People often thought that because Hermione was short that both her parents were. It was amusing to see the misconception disappear when they saw her huge hulking dad. He’d been a lock forward in his Union days and, despite having a sedentary job as a dentist, he hadn’t let himself go. He still jogged regularly around the local park and, when his wife let him, turned out for one of the local over-50s sides in the Surrey leagues.

Hermione made it through the back door where her dad was making tea in the kitchen. She took one look at her giant of a father and collapsed, crying into his arms. Whilst Matthew Granger may well have faced down some scary scrums in his day, the sight of his only daughter sobbing hysterically was something he knew to be beyond his ability. He half-carried his little girl into the front room and plonked her into his wife’s confused arms. He went back and made a third cup of tea. Tea, after all, was the panacea for all problems.

“Hermione, darling, what’s wrong?” her mother asked softly, sounding very confused. Her daughter was a tough cookie to crack. She’d rarely seen her cry, even during the midst of an incredibly brutal war. 

“Harry…Ron…lied…Evil ferret,” was all Rachel could make out from the garbled sentence offered up as an explanation by her usually calm and collected child.

Rachel straightened up her crying daughter, shook her slightly before saying firmly, “That’s enough, Hermione Jean Granger. I cannot understand sentences muffled into my neck and you are ruining a perfectly good blouse. Either you calm down and tell me what is happening or you go up to your room until you can.”

Rachel hated playing ‘bad parent’ to her husband’s ‘good parent’ but for all Matthew’s intimidating size, he was a complete pushover when it came his little girl and could never be mean to her. Once Hermione had actually let her parents know what was happening then Rachel could dispense the tea and sympathy in bucket loads.

Hermione slid off her mum’s knee and snuggled into the sofa next to her. She hugged a cushion for support before taking a few gulps of air and starting her story.

“Well, I haven’t told you anything about this because I plan on changing it, but an ancient curse has been revealed to Minerva McGonagall. You remember Professor McGonagall?”

Her parents nodded. It would’ve been impossible to forget Minerva McGonagall or the strange news she’d brought with her the summer of her daughter’s eleventh year.

“Basically, this curse has been put on the Gryffindor and Slytherin houses because of the bad enmity that sprang up between the two during the war. You remember the different Hogwarts houses, right?” 

“Yes, dear, you were sorted into Gryffindor and Slytherins are those nasty snake people who made up the majority of Death Eaters,” her mother said patiently.

“Okay, sorry, I just wanted you to be on the same page as me. Anyway, this curse stipulated that unless our generation of Gryffindors married and procreated with our Slytherin counterparts then Hogwarts would be shut down forever and magically sealed off.”

Her mother gasped, clearly recognising the catastrophe this would be. Hermione loved Hogwarts and all that it represented. Her father, typically, focused on a completely different aspect of the curse.

“What do you mean marry and procreate?” he asked uncomfortably.

“Exactly that; the Sorting Hat has paired us up with Slytherins and we are expected to marry them to save the future of Hogwarts and allow future generations of little witches and wizards to attend.”

Her mother, much more practical and less worried about Hermione being married or having sex with a man, asked, “Who did you get partnered with?”

Her daughter’s brow darkened. “That twitchy little ferret,” she spat, not paying attention to her parents’ confused expressions.

“Who?” Her mother asked, puzzled.

“Draco bloody Malfoy, that’s who.”

“That little shit!” her dad exclaimed, cracking his knuckles.

Rachel couldn’t help but feel angry on her daughter’s behalf. One of the few times she’d seen Hermione cry past the age of seven was the summer she returned from her second year at Hogwarts and told her parents about the Chamber of Secrets. They’d heard of Draco Malfoy before but only in passing as an irritant. This time Hermione had come home upset and crying, talking about ‘Mudbloods’ and ‘pure-bloods’ and nasty aristocratic boys who wished her dead just because she was born to Muggle parents. The information about the Malfoy boy had not improved over the years to the point that her parents hadn’t been too surprised that he was revealed to be a Death Eater at sixteen.

Rachel stroked her daughter’s hair. “But you aren’t going to have to marry him, are you?”

Hermione sniffled and nodded. “If I want to save Hogwarts then I do. I am trying my hardest at the moment to look into the curse. I even have Bill, Ron’s eldest brother, helping me. But at the moment it’s not looking too promising.”

“Don’t give up, Fuzzy Bear,” Matthew said, using her childhood nickname. “I know if anyone can find a way around this curse then you can.”

Hermione smiled wanly at her parents. “That’s not what made me cry, though.”

“It’s not?” her dad asked, clearly surprised. The thought of his little girl having to marry that evil shit was enough to make him want to go and throttle the boy.

“No, it’s Harry and Ron. They’ve been lying to me for years. Harry told me last week that he’s been seeing a girl for a couple of years who used to be in Slytherin but hadn’t told me about it because he didn’t know how I’d react. And then tonight, at the Burrow, Molly accidently let it slip that they’ve been friends with Draco Malfoy for at least a year,” Hermione said, outraged.

Her parents exchanged glances. No wonder their daughter was so upset. She thought the world of Harry and Ron and, if her own parents knew how much she detested Draco Malfoy, then the boys would be intimately acquainted with her feelings on the subject.

“I thought they hated him as much as you do?” her mum asked.

“So did I, but as Malfoy very happily informed me earlier this evening, they’ve even been spending time with him at the Manor. You know, Malfoy Manor, where we were imprisoned.”

This was a part of Hermione’s life that she didn’t speak about frequently. When she’d tracked her parents down and reversed the memory modification spell she’d cast to keep them safe in Australia during the war, she’d only told them briefly about what had happened that year on the run. Most of it had concerned the final battle. It was Harry who had sat both Rachel and Matthew down and informed them that Hermione had been tortured when they’d briefly been inside Malfoy Manor. Harry had wanted them to know because Hermione was refusing to seek help and he wasn’t sure how badly she was affected by it. Her parents had begged her to go to counselling but Hermione had refused, brushing it off, saying she wanted to just get on with her life. Her parents, not having access to their daughter’s magical life, had to go along with it even if they didn’t want to. They couldn’t exactly get her to a Muggle psychologist. 

“What?” her dad said, rubbing his hands over his face in confusion and frustration. “Why would they spend time with him?”

“I don’t know. I could understand Harry’s relationship with Daphne Greengrass and why he lied to me about it. She was never that terrible to us in school and seemed fine when we met. But Malfoy I can’t understand. Why would they want to be friends with him? He was so awful to us and I doubt he’s changed that much. He still takes incredible pleasure in tormenting me,” she said passionately.

Rachel stroked her daughter’s hair. “It’s okay, Pumpkin, you stay here with us for as long as you need.”

Hermione smiled tearfully at her mum. Her parents never let her down no matter how much it seemed others did.

\---------

The Burrow was in chaos; well, it was more chaotic than usual. Most people had left, realising that it would be better to give the Weasleys some space. Harry was pleased to note that Nott had gone with them. Who knew what would come out of his mouth at a time like this.

He surveyed the scene wearily. How had everything gone so wrong in such a short space of time? He watched as Molly shouted at Ron for lying to his best friend. She got a few shots in at Harry, too, but he remained mainly unscathed from her sharp tongue. Daphne was currently trying to repair the damage that Hermione had done to Draco’s face but Harry knew from experience that only time would make that Stinging Hex go down. It was the same spell she’d shot at him to disguise him from the Snatchers during that horrible year on the run. That memory made him wince. Hermione had done her utmost to keep him safe at considerable risk to herself. She’d been amazing and had stood by him through thick and thin and this was how he repaid her. 

He walked over to his girlfriend, who was trying to get her tiresome friend to stay still. 

“Draco, stop wriggling around and being such a baby,” she said, exasperated.

“But it hurts,” the blond whined.

“Serves you right, you idiot,” Harry responded. “I can’t believe you thought that that was a good time to get a shot in at Hermione. You’re lucky she didn’t do any permanent damage.”

Draco glared at Harry and stood up, the Tickling Hex having been stopped by Daphne, and walked over the mirror hanging on the wall where he moaned at the state of his swollen, distorted face.

“Look at me!” he exclaimed. “I’m hideous. I’ll never call you ugly again, Weasel. I know how it feels now.”

Ron looked at Harry in disbelief as Draco continued to run his hands over his face, mourning his loss of looks.

“Oh grow up, you big prat,” Ginny snapped at him. “It’ll wear off in a few hours. More important is how Hermione is feeling. I told the pair of you to speak to her about your new friends.”

“But she would have killed us,” Ron whinged.

“Oh, like she isn’t going to kill you now?” 

“Ginny’s right, Ron. We shouldn’t have lied to Hermione. It would hurt if she had done the same to us,” Harry said.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell her about Draco,” Pansy piped up.

Ron and Harry looked at the dark-haired girl with distaste. 

“Why exactly are you still here?” Ron asked.

“Hey, she has a right to be here. She’s going to my wife,” George interjected.

Blaise quirked an eyebrow. “My head hurts,” he commented. “I thought you and Pansy couldn’t even bear to look at each other an hour ago.”

George shrugged. “That was before the big reveal which allowed us to bond over a bet.”

“Yeah, thanks a lot, Draco. You lost me a galleon with your inability not to torment Granger,” Pansy said to the still whining blond.

“You bet on who Hermione would hex first?” Ginny asked in disbelief.

“Er… Hello! I’m George and she’s a Slytherin. What did you expect us to do in that situation?”

“I can’t keep up with this constantly changing picture,” Blaise said before looking at his fiancée. “Do you need me to do anything? If not, I think I’ll go home and recover from this debacle.”

Ginny smiled up at him, “It’d be great if you could take Malfoy home with you.”

“Sure, no problem. Come on, Ugly,” he said to his friend, who was still gazing sadly at his reflection in the mirror. “Coming, Pans, Daphne?” 

Pansy looked at George, “I’m going to go now. Er… It was nice to meet you properly,” she said shyly.

George, in a rare show of grace, kissed her hand before ruining it by ruffling Pansy’s perfect hair. “Thanks for the Galleon.”

Pansy glared at him, trying to smooth her hair back down. 

Daphne laughed. “A word of warning, George: Never mess with a Slytherin’s hair.” 

“Thanks for the ammunition, Daphne,” he said cheekily back.

Once the Slytherins had departed, the Weasleys and Harry sat around the large kitchen table, eating the food that Molly had cooked. She wasn’t worried that the vast quantities she’d made for a much larger crowd wouldn’t be eaten. She’d been feeding Ron for almost a quarter of a century and the amount he could put away still amazed her.

“I’m very disappointed in you boys,” she scolded. “Hermione’s like your sister. She deserves you to treat her better than that.”

“Thanks a lot, Mum. I can’t believe you let the cat out of the bag.”

“Ronald Bilius Weasley, how was I meant to know that you hadn’t told Hermione about your friendship with Draco Malfoy?”

“The fact that you never saw her with us when we were with him,” Ron pointed out.

“Well, I’m glad that she found out. I do not condone your actions in this.”

“But, Mum,” he whined, “Hermione is a nutcase when it comes to the Slytherins. You know how she gets.”

Sadly, Molly understood what her youngest son was talking about. She’d been worried about the mental health of Hermione for a while now. She was bottling up way too many feelings and refused to seek help. 

“Well, yes, I do, but instead of lying to her about these things, you should have made her confront her feelings and helped her get over them. By pandering to her grudges, you’ve made the situation much worse.” 

Both men hung their heads. They had no comeback to this, knowing full well that Molly was right. They had let Hermione down and made it infinitely worse by lying to her.

“I think the pair of you should go over to her flat and apologise,” Molly suggested.

Harry and Ron knew that this wasn’t really a suggestion but an order. They nodded, put their plates in the sink and went to the Floo connection to travel to Hermione’s flat. 

It was dark and cold when they arrived and it was obvious that she wasn’t there. 

Ron trod on the broken glass of the picture frames. He bent down and picked the pictures up. “Look at this,” he said sadly.

They felt even guiltier as they looked at the evidence of Hermione’s hurt. She loved her mementos and would never blow them up unless she felt incredibly betrayed. 

“She must have gone to her parents,” Harry said,

“Yeah, well we’re not getting in there at this time of night. Why don’t we send her an owl and go over to see her tomorrow?”

“Good idea.” 

The men went back to Burrow to start their grovelling in a letter.

\--------

Blaise dragged Draco through the fireplace at the Manor. Severus and Narcissa had been relaxing on one of the sofas and jumped up when the fire blazed green.

“Draco, is that you?” Narcissa asked, looking at her son in surprise. “What on earth happened to him?”

“It’s a long story,” Blaise sighed.

“Well you better get on and start talking,” Severus snapped, muttering, “dunderhead,” under his breath.

“Shush,” Narcissa gently reprimanded her sarcastic husband. “Continue please, Blaise.”

Blaise outlined the events at the Burrow for Draco’s mother and stepfather. He could see the inordinate amount of pleasure that Snape was getting out of the tale. The man was veritably evil in how much he enjoyed hearing about other people’s misfortunes, especially if it involved Potter and Weasley.

“Draco,” Narcissa scolded. “I can’t say you don’t deserve this. What a horrible thing to say to Miss Granger.”

Draco huffed at his mother. “Look at the state of me.”

“What did you expect saying such stupid things to Granger?” Severus asked, rolling his eyes. “Just be grateful she didn’t disfigure you for good.”

“You’ll go over to Miss Granger’s house tomorrow and apologise,” Narcissa said sternly.

The three men looked at her in disbelief. 

“Do you want me dead?!” Draco exclaimed.

“I hate to say it, Mrs. Snape, but Granger is much more likely to put him in St. Mungo’s rather than listen to him apologise,” Blaise said.

“I know you’re a Snape now but don’t you want to see the Malfoy line continue?” Draco asked with a sneer.

“Stop being so melodramatic, Draco,” she answered.

“Whilst I hate to agree with these idiots, darling, Zabini is right. Granger will hex Draco on sight,” Snape said.

Narcissa pursed her lips, not wanting Draco to be allowed to get away with his actions. “Okay, well, you have to write her a letter apologising for your nasty behaviour.”

He looked at his mother in shock. “Malfoys never apologise,” he said snootily.

“You’ll apologise, young man, whether you want to or not,” she said firmly. “She’s going to be the next Mrs. Malfoy and your relationship with her is not improving. I refuse to preside over a house where the two of you are continuously attempting to kill each other.”

“Your mother has a point,” Blaise said. “Even Pansy made an effort with George tonight.”

Narcissa looked at the dark Slytherin with approval. “Pansy’s back?” she asked.

“Yes, she had to quit her job at Durmstrang thanks to this new law. She arrived back for the meeting.”

“Oh, I’ll have to invite her over for tea and catch up with her.”

Draco attempted to sidle out of the room without his mother noticing. Severus caught hold of his cloak. “Narcissa!”

Narcissa wagged her finger at her disobedient son. “Don’t think you’re getting out of writing that letter. You may go and start a draft now and don’t even think about sending it before I’ve read it.”

“I’m twenty-four, not five,” he said, irritated.

“Yes, but whilst you are under my roof, you’ll do as I say.”

“Technically, it’s my roof,” he murmured.

Narcissa raised her eyebrows delicately. “What did you say, sweetie?” she asked, the soft tone doing little to hide the threat.

“Nothing, Mother dearest,” he said before stomping out of the room in a sulk.

“Your son is always such a pleasure, darling,” Severus said to his wife.

Blaise sniggered at this before both pairs of eyes were turned on him. He quickly said his goodbyes and made his escape. The Snapes were a formidable couple and not to be messed with if you wanted to leave the Manor unscathed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part with the “only psychos write in green” from this chapter comes from a real life experience. My best friend at school once handed an A-Level History essay in, written in green ink, and that comment was written on the essay once they'd been marked. It came to me as I wrote this chapter and for some reason I decided to add it in.

Hermione dragged herself out of bed the next morning. She looked terrible and had barely slept. Her hair was more unreasonable than usual and she’d pulled it up in a ponytail in sheer annoyance at its behaviour. She stuffed her feet into her pair of fluffy bunny slippers, pulled on a tatty old robe that she’d had since she was thirteen and practically crawled her way downstairs where her parents were sitting in the kitchen, enjoying tea and toast. Her mum took one look at Hermione’s red puffy eyes and placed a big mug of steaming tea in front of her. The three of them sat quietly reflecting on the dramatic events of the previous evening.

Frantic tapping on the window disturbed the peaceful breakfast. They looked up and saw an owl demanding entrance. Rachel, used to this strange way of delivering post by now, stood and opened the window. In flew not one owl but two. Hermione recognised the first as it zoomed around the kitchen excitedly. Pigwidgeon hadn’t got any more dignified with age; he continued to get ridiculously excited with any small errand that Ron sent him on. She enticed him to the table with the promise of some toast. 

The second owl was a very different prospect. It was a large Eagle Owl and viewed the behaviour of Pig with a sneer. Hermione didn’t think owls could do that but this one was definitely sneering at the proceedings in front of it. She waved another piece of toast at it and was treated to an insolent gaze that clearly said _I’m superior to you and your manky bit of toast. I dine off carrion only_. She sighed and took the parchment tied to its leg. The imperious stare it gave her clearly said that it would be waiting on the kitchen windowsill for a response. 

She didn’t even bother opening the letter from Ron and Harry. She tore it in half, reattached it to Pig’s leg and sent the excitable owl back on its way. Now to deal with the letter delivered by the strange but somehow familiar Eagle Owl. As she looked at the thick parchment that screamed wealth, she was beginning to get an idea of whom this letter was from. The green ink confirmed her suspicions, as did several dredged up memories of said owl delivering packages of sweets to a certain spoilt blond. Once more, she didn’t bother to open it, instead scrawling something on the envelope before the letter received the same treatment as the first and was reattached to the leg of the very unimpressed owl. It ruffled its feathers in clear disgust at her outrageous behaviour towards its precious cargo and flew off as soon as the letter was retied to its leg.

Hermione’s parents didn’t say anything during this process. They had both recognised Pig but were baffled as to who the second letter had been from and by the behaviour of the Eagle Owl.

“That was a very… er… scornfully dignified owl,” her father ventured, hoping to gain some insight.

“It’s a typical Malfoy one,” Hermione responded and her parents nodded in unison. 

It was interesting to see that the Malfoy boy had at least attempted to send her a letter – unless, of course, it was just full of insults rather than apologies. But they knew better than to bring it up. If Hermione’s dark scowl was anything to go by, then she really wasn’t in the mood to speculate on the rather surprising behaviour of her infuriating soon-to-be fiancé. 

“Shall I be expecting visitors later?” her dad asked.

“Harry and Ron will definitely turn up. I highly doubt the ferret will risk his pure-blood heritage by stepping foot in a Muggle neighbourhood.”

“And should I be letting anyone in?” 

“No,” she replied firmly. She really didn’t want to see anyone today.

Matthew just nodded his head. He’d make sure he was the gatekeeper for his daughter. He’d never seen her so upset, not even during that traumatic year after Voldemort’s demise when she’d spent so much time burying beloved friends and trying to rebuild wizarding institutions.

\------------

Ron sighed as he handed over the unopened and torn letter from Hermione to Harry. “I guess giving her a night to calm down hasn’t worked.”

Harry looked at the mangled parchment. He hated being at outs with any of his friends. He could remember, all too vividly, his time spent in the cupboard under the stairs and how lonely he’d felt. 

“We’ll go over after breakfast,” he replied.

The Floo connection in the Burrow’s kitchen flared green as Draco stumbled out, looking disgruntled and clutching a similarly crumpled letter in his hand.

“Tried writing to Hermione as well?” Ron asked.

Draco shot him a dirty look. “I didn’t have much choice. I told Mother that Malfoys don’t apologise but she got all snippy and forced me to write an apology to Granger and this is what I got back,” he grumbled, handing the letter over to Ron.

“I didn’t think you were one to ignore the Malfoy Behavioural Handbook, even for your mother,” Harry said.

“You don’t know her. She makes Voldemort’s threats look like a piece of cake and when she has Severus backing her up, I decided Granger was probably a safer bet.”

Ron spat his pumpkin juice out as he laughed at what was scrawled on the front of the letter before passing it on to Harry, who smirked as he put it back together and read Hermione’s cutting comment.

“Only psychos write in green,” he read aloud.

Ginny and George started to snigger, which made Draco’s mood deteriorate all the more. “Mother wasn’t too amused when we got the letter back and said that I had to go over in person. She’s insisting that I make things better if Granger is going to be the next Malfoy wife.”

Molly nodded her approval. “Your mother is very sensible, Draco. It really won’t do to keep up this childish relationship you have with Hermione.”

Draco muttered under his breath and sat sulkily in a free chair.

“You can come with us if you like,” Harry said. “We’re going over after breakfast.”

Ron stared at Harry in disbelief. “You’re kidding me, right? If we turn up with him she’s never going to forgive us.”

“Tough, I’m definitely coming. I can hide behind you if she throws another hex my way. My face has only just recovered,” Draco said with a shudder.

“Tell you what, why don’t we send Ginny to check out the situation first?” Ron suggested hopefully.

Ginny glared at her brother, “You’re insane if you think I’m going to soothe Hermione’s feelings before you show up. I think you deserve all that you get.”

“You wouldn’t want to lose your favourite brother, would you?” Ron whined.

“Why? Is Charlie in danger?” Ginny shot back.

Ron scowled at her. “That’s gratitude for you. Harry and I saved you from the Chamber of Secrets, you should pay us back.”

Ginny just raised her eyebrows at her brother. “I tell you what; I’ll come with you but mainly to laugh when you all get hexed by Hermione.”

Ron, Harry and Draco had to settle for that. Ginny was often the only person who could get through to Hermione when she was in one of her rages. Probably because she was the only person who wasn’t scared of Hermione’s magic. Just the presence of Ginny, no matter how unhelpful, at least gave them hope that they would make it out of this confrontation alive.

“Let’s just get this travesty of a show on the road,” Draco said grouchily.

\----------

By the time they had all reached the nearest train station to Hermione’s parents’ house, Harry was very glad he had Draco for support. The Weasley siblings hadn’t really spent much time in the Muggle world and their starry-eyed wonder over every little thing had been similar to that of Hagrid’s when he’d collected Harry, aged eleven, to take him to Diagon Alley for the first time. From sniggering over the faces on the paper Muggle money to exclaiming loudly about the train’s speed and seats, Harry had had a hard time shepherding them one place to another, let alone focusing on the task at hand. He never thought that he’d be pleased for the presence of Draco Malfoy, pure-blood prince.

Whilst Harry tried to keep the Weasleys under control, Draco had used his experience from living in the Muggle world for a year to purchase all the tickets and the many snacks they’d needed to keep Ron quiet and subdued. His redheaded best friend really was like a toddler at times. You needed a special bag full of snacks, toys and a change of shirt whenever you went on a long journey with him. 

“Please tell me it’s not far from here,” Draco said quietly to Harry. “I don’t think I could cope with a bus journey with those two morons.”

Harry cracked a smile. “Don’t worry, it’s a short walk.”

As they got closer to the Grangers’ house, Draco noticed that Harry and Ron were getting increasingly nervous and Ginny’s evil smirk was morphing into a full grin.

“What’s got your wands into such a knot?” Draco finally asked. “Granger’s unlikely to attack you two once she sees me there.”

“It’s not Hermione we’re so worried about right now. It’s actually getting in to see her.”

Draco frowned in bewilderment. “Why?” he asked.

“Her dad,” was all Ron could gulp.

“How scary can one Muggle be against three wizards and a witch?”

Ginny cackled gleefully. “You just wait, Malfoy.”

Draco was now feeling apprehensive too.

Harry knocked on the door of a pretty 1930s house with a neat front garden. Draco could feel his heart pounding as they waited for the door to be answered. He hated facing uncertainty. After what seemed like forever, the door was opened and Draco’s eyes widened in alarm at the size of Granger’s father.

“Hello, Matthew, is Hermione in?” Harry asked - very bravely - Draco thought. Then again, he was the Boy-with-a-Death-Wish.

“Harry, Ron,” Matthew greeted before enveloping Ginny in a big hug. “Ginny, poppet, how are you?”

“I’m well thank you, Matthew.”

“Right, well up you go. Hermione’s in her room.”

Ron and Harry breathed a sigh of relief and went to follow Ginny inside. An arm across the door barred them from doing so. 

“Not so fast, you two. Hermione doesn’t want to see you.”

“But we want to apologise and explain things to her,” Harry said.

“I’m under orders not to let you in, under any circumstances.” It was at this point that Matthew noticed Draco lurking at the back. “Who’s he?” he asked.

Draco decided, for once in his life, to be graceful and show good manners, especially as this was, to all intents and purposes, his future father-in-law. 

“Hello,” he said, stepping forward with his hand stretched out. “I’m Draco Malfoy.”

Matthew folded his arms and stared down at the younger man. “I know all about you, Sonny. You made my Hermione’s life a misery back at that magical school of yours.”

Draco stepped back from this intimidating sight and his hand groped around inside his coat pocket, grasping the handle of his wand just in case he needed to defend himself. “Er… well… er… yes,” he stuttered.

Ron finally lost his green tinge as he eagerly looked at the budding entertainment in front of him. “Bet you a Galleon that Matthew decks Malfoy,” he whispered to Harry.

Harry glared at Ron in exasperation. A confrontation here was all they needed. Draco may well have learnt some harsh lessons from the war but he’d still hex Matthew Granger if it meant defending himself.

“Matthew, Draco’s not the same bigoted boy he was back in school,” Harry said, assuming the role of peacemaker. “Believe me, if he was, he wouldn’t be here looking to apologise to Hermione.”

The blond nodded in agreement, desperately hoping he would escape being annihilated by this giant of a man.

“Hmm,” was all Matthew said, sizing the former Slytherin up and down.

“Matthew, what’s going on?” Rachel Granger asked, coming up behind him. 

Draco watched as she smiled at her daughter’s two best friends. “Hello, Harry, Ron. I’m sorry but Hermione is very upset with you and refuses to see you,” she said, moving her intimidating husband out of the way.

“Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea after your long journey and explain to me what you were thinking,” she invited. 

Draco hovered on the front step, as Harry and Ron moved into the house. Matthew Granger’s eyes hadn’t left him and the stare was beginning to creep him out. “Who’s this, dear?” Rachel asked Matthew.

“That’s Draco Malfoy.” 

“Oh! Well, I’m not sure if you’ll want to step into a Muggle house but you are more than welcome to a cup of tea as well,” Rachel said a little hesitantly to the nervous blond.

“Thank you, Mrs Granger, that is very nice of you,” Draco said politely, before following Harry and Ron inside, wearily stepping past Hermione’s father.

Rachel gestured him into the living room and Draco took in the cozy surroundings. “You have a very nice house, Mrs Granger,” he said, looking at the warm room that was obviously a product of love.

“Why thank you, Draco,” she responded, pleased. 

She took stock of the young man who’d caused so many problems in her daughter’s life, and she wasn’t adverse to what she saw. She’d been expecting a surly, sullen boy, not this polite young man. As Matthew continued to glare at Draco, she decided that it was up to her to be more welcoming. After all, at the moment, he was going to be her son-in-law and someone needed to break the ice.

“I would like to take this opportunity to apologise to you for the way I treated your daughter in school, Mrs Granger,” Draco said. “There’s no excuse for my behaviour but war teaches you many harsh lessons and the fact that many things I was taught as a child are untrue were mine.”

Harry and Ron rolled their eyes as they saw Draco’s famous Malfoy charm rearing its head once more to work to ensnare yet another mother who should hate him. 

Rachel was a little flustered at this unexpected apology. Hermione had always described Draco Malfoy as arrogant and superior so she hadn’t expected such humility from him. He was also very handsome with a unique colouring that suited him perfectly.

“Oh, please call me Rachel,” she said pleasantly. 

He smiled charmingly. “I would like that, especially if I am to marry your daughter.”

Matthew shot an incredulous look with Harry and Ron who were shaking their heads in astonishment at how quickly Malfoy had turned this situation into his favour. The unlikely allies continued to talk as Rachel showed him all Hermione’s childhood pictures on the mantelpiece.

“Malfoy really is able to charm all women, isn’t he?” Ron said to Harry.

“All but Hermione, it seems,” Harry responded.

\---------

Hermione had spent the day starting to read through Rowena Ravenclaw’s journals. With the stress and pressure of the last few days, she hadn’t had time to start this process but the quiet of the day at home had given her the opportunity. So far she had come across many frustrated long monologues at the sheer stupidity of Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin.

True to Hermione’s nature, she’d become engrossed in what she was reading. The founders of Hogwarts had always been a source of fascination to her, as were the many secrets of the school and Rowena’s journals were full of enthralling snippets of information that had her so spellbound that she barely heard the knock on her door.

A redhead poked around her door, not waiting for her to answer. “Am I allowed in?” Ginny asked.

Hermione looked up from the latest journal she was devouring. “Hello, Ginny. Of course you are. Come in.”

Ginny frowned when she saw Hermione’s face. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a heartbroken look on her friend before and it tore at her heartstrings. She rushed over and enveloped the unhappy woman in a big hug.

“I’m so sorry you had to find out like that, Hermione. I’ve been nagging on at them for ages to tell you.”

“Was there anyone other than me who didn’t know?” Hermione asked.

Ginny bit her lip, knowing that her response was going to upset Hermione further. “No, sorry. We all knew.”

Hermione just nodded in resignation. “I don’t blame you, Ginny. You’ve hardly been in London and besides, it’s not you who should be telling me, but them. I’m just upset that they’ve felt it necessary to keep so many secrets from me.”

“You’ll be pleased to know that mum chewed them out after you left. Ron is still scared she’s going to cut off his food supply.”

Hermione smiled weakly. She could definitely count on Molly to scold them rotten after pulling that stunt but it still didn’t lessen the hurt. “It feels like they’ve chosen their new Slytherin friends over me,” she said softly.

“Oh no, Hermione, don’t think that. They love you, indeed so much so that they were too afraid to tell you that they’d become friends with a bunch of snakes.”

“I know you all don’t think I’m aware of how people view me, but I am. I know that I’ve been unreasonable at times, especially when it comes to Slytherins, but it’s easier to hold on to hate. Hate makes sense to me. It makes everything that happened when we were nothing more than kids understandable.”

Hermione had spent a long time the previous night thinking about everything. As the tears of betrayal had dried, she’d taken stock of her life and hadn’t liked what she had seen. She’d spent the past few years clinging precariously to some sort of control because she hadn’t wanted to feel as helpless as she had when she’d lain on the Malfoy dining room floor waiting for Bellatrix to strike. 

“I don’t want to continue like this, Ginny.”

Ginny put her head on top of Hermione’s and rubbed soothing circles on her back. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to get help. I know I’ve refused consistently but I’ve come to terms with the fact that I cannot continue to pretend that everything is okay. I liked the idea of everyone thinking that I was strong and untouchable, that I wouldn’t need help, but it’s not the truth. Sometimes I feel so lost - like I’m drowning in the emptiness inside.”

“That’s normal, Hermione. You know Ron and Harry sought help that first year after the war.” 

She looked up at Ginny in surprise. There were so many things that she was finding out in the last few weeks. It was becoming difficult to cope with all the revelations. Her head was spinning from it all. 

Her friend noticed her amazed look. “They didn’t mention it to you because you were so adamant that you didn’t need any help. But they went to help make sense of everything.”

“That explains how they can be so normal with the current situation, then. I was clinging to the idea that I was fine. I’m also aware that I was the most famous Muggle-born at the forefront of the war. I guess I didn’t want people to view me seeking help as another reason to claim that Muggle-borns are weak and couldn’t deal with the reality of magic.”

It was obvious that Ginny hadn’t considered this aspect of Hermione’s life. The Weasleys and Harry had nothing to prove in that aspect. They had people who hated them for their views but didn’t have sections of society scrutinising their place in the world of magic. But for Hermione, having always had the role as a witch that was questioned, the need to prove herself had never really gone away.

“It’s not a weakness to admit that you need help. In fact, I think it’s a strength. Why don’t we go and see George tomorrow?”

Hermione smiled. She knew Ginny was meant to be in Wales today but that she’d stayed probably due to the mess that happened last night. “It’s okay, Gin, you go back to your training. I’ll go and see George on my own.”

She saw Ginny’s sceptical look. “Scout’s honour,” she promised.

The redhead looked confused. “What’s a scout?”

“It’s like a boy’s social club, where you go and learn ‘practical’ skills to help prepare you for life ahead, supposedly. They have a famous oath that they take hence ‘scout’s honour’ and you get badges for each skill you master. The girl’s equivalent is the brownies and I was one. I hated it. My mum made me go every week to the church hall where I’d have to do things like tie endless knots in rope just for a sodding badge. And she would make me sew the things on my uniform myself.”

Ginny giggled. She couldn’t imagine the precocious child that Hermione had undoubtedly been having to do such mundane things like tie knots for no apparent reason. She could, however, imagine Rachel Granger trying to coax a book from her hand and forcing her to go.

\---------

Ginny stayed with Hermione, comparing the crazy things mothers made their daughters do, until her curly-haired friend feel asleep. She smiled fondly at Hermione as she covered her with her duvet. The tired look in the other witch’s eyes hadn’t been lost on her. She knew her friend had probably spent the better part of the night awake over-analysing everything that had happened the night before.

She tiptoed out of Hermione’s room and down the stairs to most insane sight she’d ever seen.

Sitting in the living room was Rachel Granger with Draco Malfoy. All around them were piles of photo albums and one was open, draped across their knees. Malfoy was laughing hard as Rachel apparently explained some amusing childhood story to him. She blinked several times to see if the vision would evaporate but it remained in place. 

She wandered dazedly into the kitchen where she found Matthew Granger disconsolately sipping a cup of tea with Harry and Ron in attendance. 

“How long has that been going on?” she asked.

“Pretty much since we got here,” Harry replied.

“The curse of Draco Malfoy strikes again,” Ron mumbled around some cake.

Matthew just shook his head. “I don’t understand. I was just preparing to kick his skinny backside when Rachel goes and invites him in. The next thing that I know, he’s charming her with an apology and she’s gone all gooey eyed.”

Ginny sniggered. “Don’t feel left out. Malfoy has a knack of wrapping angry mums around his finger. Ron and Harry were so excited the first time they took Malfoy to the Burrow. He and his family had been complete prats to mine their whole life and we were all waiting for the scold that my mum was going to give him. However, before we know it, Mum’s wrapped him in a big hug and is lamenting about how thin he is.” 

“Don’t remind me. By the time he left, he was laden down with my supply of Mum’s scrummy fudge and she’d knitted him a brand new Weasley jumper in Slytherin-green. I didn’t even think she had any green wool,” Ron grumbled, clearly still traumatised by the event.

“He’s been Mum’s favourite since then. She’s always moaning that he doesn’t visit enough and he always gets the best jumper at Christmas. I think Mum was disappointed I didn’t get paired with him. She’d be ecstatic to have him as a son-in-law,” Ginny said.

“I don’t know,” Harry piped up. “Zabini seems to be giving him a run for his money. Don’t think I didn’t notice that he was wearing a Weasley jumper last night.”

“I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: Stupid, slick Slytherin bastards,” Ron said grouchily. 

Matthew was shell shocked at the thought of someone so manipulative being his son-in-law. His wife was never going to be the same again. He could see it now; she was going to be gushing about Draco-this and Draco-that over breakfast every morning. He groaned and put his head in his hands.

“Don’t worry, Matthew,” Ginny said consolingly. “Hermione gives Malfoy a run for his money. She’s his weakness.”


	11. Chapter 11

True to her word, Hermione fully intended to go see George at his shop in Diagon Alley the next day. But first she had to contend with a very trying morning.

“Good morning, darling,” her mother chirped at her, as she came downstairs.

“Did you sleep well, Fuzzy Bear?” her dad asked, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

“Yeah, I don’t remember dreaming or anything. What time did Ginny leave?”

Matthew shot his wife a warning glance that she paid no attention to.

“Oh she left when Harry, Ron and Draco were ready.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Draco? As in Draco Malfoy? Malfoy was in _my_ house!? How could you let him in, Dad?” 

Matthew shrugged and looked unhappy. “I wasn’t letting the little snot in but your mother invited him to have tea.”

“Really, Matthew, I wasn’t about to let you beat the poor boy to death,” Rachel replied.

Hermione looked at her dad. “Has mum gone insane? Since when is Draco the-bane-of-my-school-existence Malfoy a poor boy?”

“Since he managed to charm the knickers off your mum. She sat there all afternoon feeding him tea and biscuits, showing him all your childhood photos and telling him your embarrassing stories.”

She looked at her mum in disbelief. “How could you do that to me? He’s going to throw every little thing you told him in my face.”

“Stop being silly, Pumpkin. He seems to have done a lot of growing up since you were both at school. From what you told me a decade ago he wouldn’t have stepped foot inside a Muggle house, but he was polite, charming and perfectly nice. Wasn’t he, Matthew?”

Matthew looked torn. “Technically, I suppose he was fine. He didn’t try and insult anyone but that still doesn’t mean I forgive him for how he treated my baby for all those years.”

Hermione smiled brilliantly at her dad. “See, Mum, that’s what parents are supposed to do. They are meant to back up their children, not swoon all over the enemy.”

Rachel sighed. “I think it’s obvious where you get your stubborn nature from, my dear. And I didn’t swoon, but you didn’t tell me how good looking your Draco is.”

She spluttered, “‘My Draco’? Since when is he my Draco? And good looking? Only if you find pointy ferrets attractive.”

Rachel gave her daughter a level look. “I love you, darling, but sometimes you can be deliberately blind. He’s incredibly handsome.”

Hermione muttered something about crazy mothers but only so her dad could hear. He smiled in response.

“Ooooh,” Rachel squealed. “Think how cute my grandchildren are going to be. I hope they get his colouring. Grey-eyed babies with blond curly hair would be adorable.”

Hermione looked as if she was about to have an aneurism whilst Matthew got up from the table. “If you are going to discuss such unpleasant things then I’m going to open the practice early.”

She gave her dad a pleading stare, begging him not to leave her alone with an insane mother talking about grandchildren fathered by Draco Malfoy. He ignored her gaze and made a quick exit.

Hermione banged her head on the table and tried to drown out her mother’s monologue on the subject.

\----------

Ginny had briefed Ron and Harry on her talk with Hermione before she returned to train in Holyhead. She’d waited until Draco had travelled back to Malfoy Manor, not wanting to tell him anything Hermione had revealed to her in a vulnerable moment. She’d left Ron and Harry with strict instructions to keep grovelling for their friend’s forgiveness, telling them that Hermione was going to visit George later at the shop and that they’d find her there.

Both boys had fabricated a ‘stake-out’, which allowed them to spend all day hanging around George’s shop. Pucey and Hilliard were perfectly happy to go along with this pretence as it meant they got to hang out all day in the Leaky Cauldron. Pucey was hoping Angelina Johnson might make an appearance in the pub as she usually did for lunch. 

“Any particular reason why I have to suffer the pair of you in my shop all day today?” George asked.

“We have a tip-off that a wanted Death Eater is going to the apothecary across the road later,” Harry said.

George raised his eyebrow in disbelief. “If you think I’m going to believe that then you’re dumber than even I thought and if you think that I’m going to let you bother Hermione then you have another thing coming.”

“We’re not going to bother her, we just want to talk. Besides, whose brother are you meant to be?” Ron complained.

“Yours apparently, but if I had a choice then I’d definitely choose Hermione over you,” George replied.

Ron, used to George’s ways, just stuck his tongue at his brother. 

“What time do you think she’ll get here?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know. Ginny just told me to expect her and to be sympathetic and helpful. Anyway, I guess if I’m stuck with you two then you can be useful and go and restock those shelves over there. I had a bunch of girls in here yesterday and they almost cleared me out of my Patented Day Dreams.”

Harry and Ron sighed but knew that George would put them to work some way or another. It was better stacking shelves than trying to serve little snotbags too young to go to Hogwarts on a shopping day-trip with their parents.

\--------

Hermione had spent the morning in purgatory. Her mother’s words over breakfast about Malfoy had stuck in her head. She found herself thinking about how Draco had filled out as he’d grown up. Now that the stress of having to try and do Voldemort’s bidding had been lifted, he did look pretty amazing. She’d just never bothered to really look at him since the war ended.

“Stop it, Hermione,” she hissed to herself. “He’s a ferret and not at all attractive!”

Ernie lifted his head. “Did you say something, Hermione?”

“Er… no… sorry, just talking to myself,” Hermione replied, blushing, hoping that Ernie hadn’t heard anything.

She glanced up at the clock was grateful to see that it was 2PM. That meant that the lunchtime rush down in Diagon Alley was finished and George would have more time to talk rather than trying to serve customers at the same time.

“Ernie, I’m just going to grab something to eat in Diagon Alley. There’s nothing urgent that you need me to do this afternoon is there?”

“No, Hermione, don’t worry, take your time. I’m just filing the paperwork from that raid on the old Yaxley estate from last week.”

“Okay, can I bring you anything back?”

“No, I had a sandwich not long ago.”

Hermione was pleased that it was a slow Wednesday. She was struggling to keep her head at work, which never happened to her. She was still feeling a little jittery about everything that had happened and Ernie had tried to persuade her to take the rest of the week off but she didn’t want to let her personal problems impact on her work more than they had already. Ernie had rolled his eyes at that, knowing that she had worked more unpaid overtime than anyone else in the Ministry. If anyone deserved to take some sick leave it was Hermione.

She hummed and smiled as she walked down Diagon Alley. It was a beautiful, sunny autumn afternoon, the kind that made you smile and improved your mood instantaneously. She pushed the door to Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes open and the smile on her face froze as she was confronted with the sight of Ron, precariously balanced on a stepladder, restocking the Puking Pastilles. 

“Funny, I didn’t realise Auror pay was so terrible that you needed a second job,” she remarked.

Harry, hearing her voice, popped his head out of the stock cupboard. 

She raised her eyebrows, knowing what this welcoming committee indicated. “I see that Ginny told you where I’d be this afternoon.”

Ron stumbled his way down the stepladder, practically falling down the last step and dragging a few Puking Pastilles with him in his rush. “Hermione, we’re so sorry. We shouldn’t have lied to you. Please forgive us,” he said rapidly, his words slurring together so that they were garbled and hard to hear. He also hadn’t bothered to try and stand up, and was lying on the floor, his leg tangled around the bottom step of the ladder and a couple of cartons of Weasley products sitting on his head.

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at her clumsy friend. She looked towards Harry, who was pleading for forgiveness also. She opened her arms and gestured for them to come closer. They sprinted towards her and almost knocked her over with the fierce nature of their hug.

“Well, isn’t this touching,” drawled a voice from the door.

Hermione, Harry and Ron turned around to see Draco and Pansy in the doorway. 

Pansy, deciding to cut the sudden tension, moved forward slightly and said, “Hello, Hermione, how are you?”

“Watch out, Pans, she bites,” Draco warned.

Pansy glared at her irritating friend before cuffing him around the head. “Behave yourself, Draco, or I’ll tell your mother.”

George opened the door at this moment, knocking Draco against the cage of Pygmy Puffs, and they began their high-pitched chirping. 

“Oh, sorry, Draco, I didn’t see you there,” George said before noticing the gathering of people in his shop, which made him grin.

“Hello, Hermione. I see those two knuckleheads have managed to apologise,” he said, ignoring the death stare the brunette was sending Malfoy.

Hermione stopped glaring at Malfoy and smiled sweetly at George. “I can’t stay mad at them for long, no matter how much they deserve it.”

“Hello George,” Pansy said shyly. “I came to see if you fancied grabbing a late lunch.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared at the Slytherin in slight shock. 

“What?” Pansy asked defensively.

“Well, you know, it’s just that George is a blood traitor in your eyes,” Ron said awkwardly.

“Now you see what I have to work with here,” Draco commented to Pansy.

Pansy blushed. “You’re not the only ones to change.”

“Yeah, so get off her case,” George said. “I’d love to grab lunch, Pansy, but can we make it tomorrow? Hermione and I already have plans.”

“Sure, I wasn’t sure if you would be free, which is why I brought my back-up plan.”

“Hey!” Draco protested. “When did I sink to being your second choice?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself, Draco. You haven’t been my first choice for years.”

Hermione scoffed at this, clearly disbelieving Pansy.

“Aw, Kitten, I know you find it hard to believe but not everyone finds me as fit as you do,” Draco mocked.

“Oh please, Malfoy. If your ego got any more inflated, it would need a separate atmosphere to allow the rest of us to breathe. Besides, we all know Parkinson’s obsessed with you,” Hermione snapped.

Pansy scowled at the curly-headed witch, “You know, Granger, you need to start working on your attitude. We’re not at Hogwarts anymore, it might be a good idea for you to realise that.”

“The whole wizarding world knows that you left Britain because you couldn’t cope with Malfoy not returning your feelings.”

Pansy flushed with anger. “You know nothing about me so why don’t you stop jumping to conclusions about things you have no clue about. First, I may - once upon a time - have had feelings for Draco but that was a schoolgirl crush, much like yours on Weasley there. Secondly, I went to Durmstrang because - believe it or not - I enjoy teaching. I may not be a know-it-all like you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t possess a brain. And finally, before scoffing at everyone else, why don’t you take at look at yourself because, from where I’m standing, you’re not doing too well.”

With that, Pansy stormed out of the shop.

Draco looked at the brunette. “For someone so smart, Granger, you really are judgemental. Maybe it’s time you got over yourself,” he said before following his friend out the door. 

The Gryffindors were left looking more than a little shell-shocked. Hermione looked towards George with a bewildered expression. 

George decided to try and take control of the situation. “Okay, you two,” he said, pointing to Ron and Harry. “It’s time to go back to the Ministry and your real jobs.”

Both men knew that George was best placed to speak to Hermione about seeking help and what just happened. As much as they wanted to wrap their best friend in an enveloping hug, they knew that wasn’t what she actually needed right now. They smiled, kissed her cheek and disappeared.

“What just happened?” Hermione asked.

“You were just taken down a peg or two by a pair of Slytherins,” George replied. 

“I know. When did that start happening?” 

“Since you turned into a bit of a bitch,” he said, ignoring her hurt look. “Look, Hermione, you know I love you but you need to get over this vendetta you have against all Slytherins to ever exist. You were incredibly out of order towards Pansy just then and you deserved to called out on it by her. She’s right: you don’t know her and you, of all people, should know better than to judge on appearance only.”

Hermione put her head in her hands. “I’m trying, George. It doesn’t look like it but I really am. It’s just this marriage law has gotten me so defensive. I don’t want to be tied to Malfoy. I want to marry someone I could love.”

George wrapped an arm around his distraught friend. He wasn’t going to bring up the trouble that was Draco Malfoy just yet but he could address some of her other issues.

“Are you really trying as hard as you can? I’m not going to go into the incident that just happened because I recognise that you are never at your best with Malfoy in the same room. But have you made much of an effort with Daphne?”

“I’ve spoken to her a few times,” she said defensively.

“Have you?” he asked sceptically. “Or have you just exchanged greetings to please Harry?”

Hermione hung her head and bit her lip. “Okay, you’re right. I’ve said the bare minimum to her to appease Harry.”

“That’s better. You are going to need to be completely honest with yourself if you are going to get anything out of the counselling.”

“Who said I was going to counselling?”

He gave her a stern look. “If you are truly serious about addressing your issues and letting go of the hate then you have to go talk to someone. I refuse to help you if you aren’t going to go.”

She looked at the determined expression on George’s face and capitulated. “Okay, I’ll go. I had a feeling it would be your condition but I was still hoping I’d get out of it.”

“Nice try but no, I’m going to be firm with you.”

“Okay, what else are you demanding I do?”

“You won’t like this, but I want you to spend time with some Slytherins.”

Hermione tensed up at this. She wasn’t sure she was too comfortable with that idea. It was hard enough to admit that she needed help, let alone start spending time with those she was projecting her hate onto.

George looked her knowingly. “I know, I’m making you do something you are going to find hard but I’m hardly going to lock you and Malfoy in my stock cupboard until you get on. I value my stock too much and it’d be difficult to explain the dead pure-blood to the Ministry. I was thinking little steps to begin with. I think a cup of coffee with Daphne would be a good idea. She’s the love of Harry’s life and it would mean the world to him if you made an effort to get to know her.”

She nodded. She could cope with Daphne. She hadn’t been at the centre of the bullying Hermione had undergone at the hands of the Slytherins. And she had been nice when they had met at the Leaky Cauldron. 

“I can do that, although I don’t think Harry deserves me being nice after lying to me for so long.”

“I completely agree with you there but Daphne does deserve it. She’s put up with having her relationship with Harry hidden from the public because of you and she did it because she knows how much you mean to him.”

When George put it that way, Hermione did feel bad for the Slytherin. She’d hate to be treated the same way and it made her feel slightly ashamed that it was her irrational behaviour that had caused this to happen. She wondered at what point she’d allowed hatred to rule her life so much that it affected the love lives of her friends.

“Okay, so when am I meeting with Daphne?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, you didn’t think I was going to set it all up, did you? No, I think the gesture will be appreciated a lot more if you invite her. There are no half-hearted measures in this, Hermione - you have to go all out.”

She sighed, recognising the truth in his words. If she was going to move on then she was going to have to go to see a councillor and also have to make the first move with Daphne. It wasn’t good enough for her to keep relying on her friends to make excuses for her anymore or indeed drag her to meetings with their Slytherin friends.

\---------

“Narcissa, I really don’t know why you made me come on this errand with you,” Severus complained for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Well, for a start, I needed you to help me navigate all the Muggle things considering you spent so long at Spinner’s End, and secondly because we’re portraying a united front as Draco’s parents.”

“I really don’t want to be counted as one of Draco’s parents. If he was mine then he would never have been so spoiled.”

“Yes, I’m sure he would have grown up under a more austere regime with you, Severus. Indeed, all those little trinkets he used to bring back from Hogwarts every summer show how severe you would have been,” Narcissa said bitingly.

“They weren’t trinkets! They were prizes for his excellent work in Potions each year.”

Narcissa snorted. It was a very lady-like snort but a snort nonetheless. “I’m sure we’ll see a cabinet full of such things at Miss Granger’s house, then, because she topped Draco every year in Potions.”

Severus had the shame to blush. He muttered darkly under his breath about annoying know-it-all students and meddling wives. 

“I thought so. So no more complaining, Severus. You are beginning to sound like Draco when I make him attend charity balls.”

If looks could kill, Severus would have found himself a widower at that moment in time. His wife, however, was immune to his glares and carried on regally up the street.

“Why are we going to visit Granger’s parents again?” Severus asked.

Narcissa sighed. “It’s not hard to understand, Severus. I don’t know why I have to keep explaining it to you. You’re meant to be brilliant.”

“Try because Narcissa Malfoy in a Muggle area is something I never thought I’d see.”

She pursed her lips in annoyance at her contrary husband. “It’s Snape now. You’d think you’d remember considering you’re the one married to me. Besides, Draco came home raving about how lovely Mrs Granger was and I thought it would be a good thing to invite her around to the Manor for tea.”

Snape’s face lit up with a smile for the first time since they’d left Malfoy Manor. “Please tell me you plan on inviting Granger too. I can’t wait to see her go off on Draco. I feel as if I’ve missed all the fun.”

“I’m not doing this to entertain you, Severus, but to try and reconcile Draco with Miss Granger. We cannot have them continuously battling each other. I want grandchildren.”

Severus gagged. “Just imagine what the children of Granger and Draco will be like,” he said with a shiver.

She glared at her husband in annoyance. “Just promise me you’ll be on your best behaviour the whole time we are at the Grangers’ house. No disparaging their daughter.”

“Yes, dear,” he said in the kind of disappointed tone that made it seem as if Narcissa had just cancelled Christmas and told him Santa Claus didn’t exist.

“Good. Now, it should be just up here,” she said, squinting at the piece of paper in her hand that had the Grangers’ address on it.

She’d had to prize the information out of Draco, who was deeply suspicious of her intentions. But she said that she just planned to have an arrangement of flowers delivered to them the Muggle way to thank them for hosting her son for an afternoon. Draco couldn’t complain about this as it was something she always did. Obviously, she usually did nothing the Muggle way but he thought that it would probably put the Grangers more at ease.

Narcissa rang the doorbell and admired the neat front garden. At least the Grangers appeared to be respectable about their home. Her eyebrows rose in surprise as the largest man she’d ever seen opened the door.

“Hello?” Matthew Granger asked, puzzled.

“Hello, I’m Narcissa Snape, the mother of Draco Malfoy. I was wondering if Mr. and Mrs. Granger were home.” 

Matthew looked slightly bemused and called for his wife. “Rachel, the mother of that little sno… er… Draco Malfoy is here.”

Narcissa noticed the change in sentence but only a slight pursing of her lips attested to this.

Rachel appeared, looking a little flustered as she was in the middle of dusting upstairs. “Hello, I’m Rachel Granger and this is my husband Matthew. Please come in.”

“Thank you. I’m Narcissa, Draco’s mother, and this is my husband Severus Snape,” Narcissa said indicating to Severus, who was standing at the back trying not to look too surly.

The unusual grouping made their way into the Grangers’ sitting room and after Rachel had dispensed tea and cake, they all sat, trying to find something to say.

“Your son has very nice manners, Mrs. Snape.”

“Please call me Narcissa. After all, our children are to be married. Yes, Draco was taught good manners; sadly he doesn’t always show them.”

Severus snorted which he tried to, unconvincingly, turn into a cough as Narcissa shot him a glare.

“I’m sorry, Severus, but where have I heard your name before?” Rachel asked.

“I used to teach Potions at Hogwarts and was the head of Slytherin House. I decided to retire after the war finished.”

“Oh yes,” Rachel said a little faintly. Hermione had told her parents all about the unfair Potions master, although his conduct during the war had made her daughter soften towards her old professor.

Matthew Granger scowled and sank deeper into his chair. First it was Draco Malfoy weaselling his way into his home and sweet-talking his wife and now it was a professor who had been pretty cruel to his daughter for much of her school career. If Matthew knew Occulmency then he’d have realised that Severus felt just as uncomfortable with the situation as he did. Both women ignored the surly men and continued to natter over tea.

“I’m sorry to turn up unannounced,” Narcissa said. “But I wanted to invite you to tea at Malfoy Manor this Sunday, along with your daughter, of course.”

Matthew looked at his wife in slight alarm. It would be strange to go a house that they had heard so much about and none of it good. However, Rachel looked delighted. She loved forays into the wizarding world and going to the Burrow. She found it all fascinating.

“That would be lovely, Narcissa. We’d love to come and of course we’ll bring Hermione. But is it possible we could postpone it for a few weeks. I think my daughter might need some time to prepare,” Rachel said, thinking of Hermione’s plans to visit a therapist.

“Of course and I would like to assure you that we’d be taking tea far away from where Hermione previously visited,” Narcissa said uncomfortably, feeling as if she had to bring it up. “I unreservedly apologise for the atrocity that happened to your daughter under my roof and I do hope she’ll be able to attend without too many terrible memories.”

Rachel wasn’t going to offer this escape clause to her daughter because she would use it to get out of going. It would be very traumatic for Hermione but being there with her parents, Rachel hoped, would ease some of that trauma. She also appreciated Narcissa being up front about it the situation.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter involves a counselling scene. I've never been to counselling as will become obvious when you read this so please don't hate it too much, it's fanfiction and I needed it to turn out the way it has for my own plot needs.

Daphne was sitting down for breakfast at Harry’s house when something tapped on the window. She recognised the strange-looking screech owl that belonged to Hermione. The first time she’d seen it, she had been fairly alarmed, as those types of owls weren’t the most attractive birds with their strange, tufty ears. Harry had laughed at her reaction and said that Hermione couldn’t help but rescue animals that were left on the shelf because of their strange appearance. He had then rambled on about a cat called Crookshanks. Much to her bemusement, Ron had insisted that the cat was a creature of the devil. 

Daphne opened the window to let the owl in. She couldn’t help but feel that its harsh look complemented its owner, who had become a very stern woman.

Daphne checked the front of the parchment to see if the letter was for Ron or Harry and was surprised to see her name emblazoned on the front. Her heart pounded as she opened it. Was this going to be an unpleasant missive where Hermione warned her to leave Harry alone?

_Dear Daphne,_

_I know I haven’t been the most welcoming of Harry’s friends to you. I would like to apologise for this and to make it up to you. I was wondering if you would be willing to meet me for lunch sometime this week?_

_Please do owl back and let me know if and when you can make it._

_Best wishes,  
Hermione Granger_

Daphne was still sitting there with her mouth slightly open when Harry strolled into the kitchen, towelling his hair dry. 

“Who’s that from?” he asked.

Daphne gestured to the owl that was sitting on the windowsill waiting for a reply. He recognised it straight away and gulped slightly. Daphne waved the letter under his nose and he grabbed it, hoping that Hermione hadn’t flipped out and written a nasty letter to his girlfriend. He looked up in surprise when he’d finished it.

“Do you think it’s some kind of trick and she’s going to make me disappear?” Daphne asked.

“No,” he responded. “It means she has accepted you and wants to make an effort to get to know you. She went to see George yesterday to talk about getting help for her issues but I thought it was nothing as she went off on Draco and Pansy Parkinson as normal.”

“You mean she wants to get to the bottom of her Slytherin problem?”

“It seems that way. I’m really proud of her. I thought this engagement to Draco would make her run the other way but she had a heart-to-heart with Ginny, recognised her problems and wants to sort her life out. Do you think you’ll meet her?” he asked, hoping, but not counting, on his fiancée to say yes.

Daphne smiled. “How hard hearted do you think I am? If Hermione is extending an olive branch to me then of course I’m going to take it. It would be pretty evil of me not to considering what you just told me and, besides, it would probably just re-enforce all her negative stereotypes about us Slytherins.”

Harry kissed her. “You’re the best, love.”

“I know. Draco better appreciate it too because I may be the only chance he has to soften Hermione up towards him.”

\--------

Hermione didn’t know whether to be pleased or not when Daphne sent a response straight back saying that she was free for lunch on Friday. She certainly was apprehensive about this whole exercise but she’d promised George that she would be fully committed to his plan and she didn’t want to break her word to him. She also felt bad that Daphne had to be a secret girlfriend. No one deserved to have to hide his or her relationship away.

But Hermione had worse things to think about right now. Her first counselling session was that evening and she was extremely worried about it. No matter how much of a pep talk George had given her about it, she didn’t think she would be able to open up to a stranger. She sighed and continued to work on the new house-elf legislation she wanted to put before Hestia. She really hoped that this time the Ministry would accept it.

\----------

Draco paused in the family parlour as his mother called his name. Damn, he’d been hoping that he would be able to escape to the relative safety of his study before she caught up with him. She never bothered him when he was in there, which was probably conditioning from years of living with Lucius, who only accepted being disturbed in that room if the Manor was on fire.

He had a good idea about what his mother wanted to talk to him about. She’d been curious about his trip to the Grangers and had bombarded him with questions when he had returned the other night. He’d reluctantly answered them, annoyed to see just how interested his mother was with the whole affair. Her eyes had lit up when he told her how he’d spent the afternoon with Rachel and had mistrusted the calculating look that had gleamed out his mother’s beautiful blue eyes. She was up to something but, to be perfectly honest, he didn’t want to know what it was.

“How was work, darling?” Narcissa asked.

“Fine,” he said curtly. “I take it you had something to do with Severus’ no-show.”

She nodded. “I needed him to help me with something.”

“Well, as long as it doesn’t involve me, I’m happy.”

Narcissa laughed, a tinkling sound that usually made him happy. His mother had suffered greatly during Voldemort’s second coming. She’d been held as a threat above his head to make him accept the mission to kill Dumbledore and join the Dark Lord’s ranks as an underage Death Eater. She’d had to put up with her husband slowly turn to alcohol to cope with the pressure of his home being turned into Fort Voldemort and she’d had to deal with her unstable sister using her as target practice whenever Draco didn’t learn something quickly enough for Bellatrix’s liking. The fact that she had survived at all was miraculous. 

“Of course it involves you, sweetheart. I want to make sure my little boy is going to be happy.”

Draco’s heart stopped at that. It meant that she had been meddling where she had no right to be doing so.

“What have you done?” he asked apprehensively.

“Why, nothing too terrible, Draco, so stop looking at me like that. I went to visit the Grangers with Severus,” she replied.

Draco groaned out loud. This was why he liked to keep his business as far away from his meddlesome mother as possible. And the fact that she’d dragged his sullen stepfather along didn’t bode well either. He could imagine how surly Severus had been in such pleasant and cheerful surroundings.

“Why would you go and visit the Grangers? And why would you take Severus?” he asked again.

“To invite them to tea on Sunday, and of course I took Severus with me. He’s your stepfather and should be involved in these matters.”

He looked horror-struck at this. “What?”

“I thought you would like that. You got on so well with Rachel, who is delightful, that I thought it would be a good idea to invite them around so we can all get to know each other. So I need you to be here on Sunday in two weeks time, looking your best.” 

“Please tell me you haven’t included _all_ the Grangers in that invitation.”

“Silly boy! Of course I have. I thought it would be a very good opportunity for me to meet Miss Granger properly. I really don’t consider her only other visit to the Manor as a proper meeting,” Narcissa said.

He groaned again. “Great! She hates me and this is her chance to sic her giant of a father on me,” he grumbled.

His mother laughed. “I really don’t know what you mean. You really are so melodramatic at times. Just be here on Sunday in a fortnight at 3PM and make sure you bring your very best manners because I won’t have you embarrassing me.”

Draco recognised that his mother was deadly serious. She’d been looking for a way to intervene ever since she’d heard about the marriage law and seen whom he’d been matched up with. She had seemed altogether too pleased with his spouse-to-be and didn’t appear to care that a marriage to Hermione Granger would mean an end to the pure-blood line of the Malfoys. Mind you, as she’d married a half-blood, it probably meant that her former opinions on blood purity had changed. Then again, hosting a psychopathic mass-murderer in your home for a year or so had a funny way of completely changing your opinions about such things. It had with Draco. He had found himself hoping against hope that Harry Potter could succeed in defeating the Dark Lord.

He shook his head at his mother and escaped before she could start demanding other things from him, such as getting down on one knee and proposing to Granger with the Malfoy family ring on that Sunday.

\----------

Hermione’s heart was pounding as she made her way to the counselling session. She wasn’t at all sure what to expect and wasn’t so keen on spilling her guts to a complete stranger. It wasn’t the way she usually did things. She was extremely careful as to whom she opened up to.

“You don’t like to talk about your emotions very much, do you?” Hera Jennings, her counsellor observed.

“No,” she replied before the raised eyebrows of her counsellor made her elaborate on her monosyllabic answer. “I don’t like to feel out of control. My emotions can sometimes make me feel that way so I tend to only show them to those people I trust.”

Hera nodded. “That’s understandable with all the trials and tribulations you faced when your personality was being moulded.”

Hermione looked uncomfortable about where the conversation was going, which wasn’t lost on the observant Hera.

“Now, Hermione, I need you to look upon these sessions as somewhere you can be completely comfortable and honest. If you are going to be successful in tackling your problems then you have to trust me and open up completely.”

She sighed. George had warned her that this was what she was going to have to do. “I really will try, Hera, but it is not something that comes naturally for me.”

“We all deal with grief differently. Some people cling to others, finding comfort in not being alone and others bottle their emotions up. Neither actions are healthy.”

Hermione recognised the truth in that and also in her own actions. She had put her feelings away, hiding behind a façade of hatred. She’d unfairly tainted the whole house of Slytherin with the actions of just a few. This was even with the knowledge that Severus Snape had bravely acted as a double agent for the Order of the Phoenix. He was an example of one courageous Slytherin who didn’t deserve to be abused by her.

The rest of the therapy session was spent talking about more general stuff. Hermione couldn’t help but be pleased that they hadn’t jumped straight into heavy topics. She needed some time to come to terms with the step she was taking.

\---------

Her next therapy session was scheduled just two days later on Friday morning. She’d decided that if she was going to do this then it needed to be intensive. Anything else and she’d give herself a reason to run.

“So you are meeting with Harry’s girlfriend, Daphne for lunch today. How are you feeling about this?” the therapist asked.

George had briefed Hera well, but she wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or not. One the one hand, she didn’t like to be discussed by others, especially her personal emotions. But then again, it made this session a lot easier for her to deal with if she didn’t have to reveal everything.

“I’m apprehensive. When George told me how Harry had kept this relationship a secret because he was worried about how I would react, I felt guilty. I don’t want to be an obstacle to my friends’ happiness,” she confided.

“Has Daphne and Harry dating made you think any differently about Slytherins in general?”

“I realise that I’ve been projecting all my bad experiences at the hands of some Slytherins onto the whole house. I had no real reason to hate Daphne or to mistrust Zabini or any proof to accuse Theo Nott of being a Death Eater. But it made me feel better to think this way. It was easier to believe all Slytherins were evil rather than deal with my problems,” she confessed, knowing this to be the truth.

“So what have you been repressing for all this time?” Hera asked.

“The fact that I was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange and that Draco Malfoy witnessed it,” Hermione whispered.

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Weak and vulnerable,” she replied.

“Why?” Hera asked.

Hermione was openly crying now, the tears tracking down her face silently as she looked inward. “Because I couldn’t stop it. I was helpless. If it hadn’t been for Dobby, I would have ended up dying on the floor of Malfoy Manor in front of people who have always despised me for something that isn’t my fault. Simply because of where and who I was born to.”

“And how do you feel about what happened to you now?” Hera continued.

“I feel angry and upset. Angry that there are people who consider me worthless just because I was born to Muggle parents and that their opinions were allowed to be openly expressed and that, for a long time, they weren’t challenged. Upset that someone I went to school with and who made my life at Hogwarts much harder witnessed me at the lowest point in my life. It enrages me that his parents stood there and watched. A mother or father should feel empathy to see someone’s daughter being abused in such a way. But they just stood there as if I was nothing.”

“And how do you feel when you see those people walking around now?”

“I feel rage. I don’t like that they have escaped with hardly any consequences. They supported the ideology that put me on their floor being tortured. I find it very difficult to see them out in society as if nothing changed.”

“Do you think they may have changed? That things they once supported no longer form part of their thinking?” Hera asked.

“I would like to believe that but I don’t think so. Everyone tells me that the Malfoys are reformed but I struggle with that concept.”

“What about this marriage law? How is that making you feel?” Hera probed.

“It’s making me feel vulnerable and helpless once again. I find myself back in a position where I have very little choice about my own life and I hate that.”

Hera could see that she had pushed Hermione to her absolute limit today. The emotions pulsating around the room were almost over-powering. She hadn’t meant to take it so deep, so quickly, but she could see that there was nothing casual about this young lady. Hermione Granger didn’t do things by half-measures. She was an all or nothing type of person, which was why she hated in such a seemingly illogical manner. But when you looked at the root causes of her problems, there was nothing irrational about it. They were an attempt to take control of something that had always been beyond her control.

Once she’d seen her client out, she looked over the letter that had landed on her desk that morning. Hermione’s parents had asked her advice about taking her to Malfoy Manor for tea, as they had been invited by Narcissa Snape. Knowing what she knew now, Hera thought that it could only go two ways. Either it would be an absolute disaster or it would push more of Hermione’s emotions out into the open and in the place where she had felt the most vulnerable. 

Usually, Hera would forbid parents to allow this to happen, especially so early in a client’s counselling sessions. But, unfortunately for Hermione, the marriage law meant that she didn’t have a huge amount of time to address her feelings and, as she was due to marry Draco Malfoy, such a drastic course of action was a way of getting her to come to terms with this reality. Hera only hoped the Malfoys truly had changed and could show Hermione the support she needed. 

At least they had several therapy sessions before that moment arrived. She could at least try and prepare her as much as possible for the occasion. It wouldn’t be easy.

\----------

Daphne and Hermione sat across from each other, a little unsure about how to go on. The greetings had been easy but now they actually had to make some kind of conversation, which wasn’t as simple. Neither knew much about the other. Hermione had never been that aware of Daphne at Hogwarts and Harry hadn’t been that keen on talking much about her to Daphne, as he felt guilty about the whole situation.

“So,” Hermione said. “How did you and Harry meet?”

Daphne let out a breath, seemingly relieved that awkward silence had been broken. _At least this was something they could talk about for a little while_ , Hermione thought.

“We met at the after party of the Quidditch games that Adrian and Ron regularly organise. It wasn’t that long after Ron had been partnered with Adrian at the Ministry and things were still a little ropey. There wasn’t much trust between the two but they both had a mutual love of Quidditch and couldn’t form a match without pooling each other’s friends. Ron had been playing with Adrian along players from the Gryffindor/Slytherin teams when he begged Harry to come along. Harry wasn’t keen on attending but came because Ron asked him.” 

Hermione snorted. “And because he can’t resist playing Quidditch. He loves that game.”

“Well yes, that too,” the other witch smiled.

“So do you play Quidditch as well?” 

“Oh no, I’m useless on a broom. Adrian likes to throw parties and uses the Quidditch games as a good excuse to get everyone together. I went along. I must admit I was little surprised to see Harry there but we drank some butterbeer and talked. The next thing I know, the room has cleared out and it was just Harry and I left. He invited me for a late dinner and things just went from there.”

“I’m pleased to hear that Harry can at least talk to girls he likes now. He used to be completely unable to,” Hermione said, giggling.

“He had to grow up sometime. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a little bit useless. I waited for days for him to owl me but heard nothing. In the end, I had to ask him out a second time,” Daphne laughed.

“That’s serves him right for not telling me about you. It’s usually me he comes to when he wants girl advice.”

“He’s got better. I don’t have to spell things out so much to him now,” the former Slytherin said.

“Poor Harry. If someone was less suited to hoards of girls falling over him due to his hero status, it’s him. He hasn’t a clue how to deal with it.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be dealing with them from now on,” Daphne growled.

This made Hermione feel bad. She’d seen girls falling over Harry for years now without knowing that he was in a relationship with Daphne. She’d even tried to encourage him to date a few of them. “I am sorry, Daphne. I feel really guilty about the fact that you and Harry have had to sneak around because he was too afraid to tell me he was dating a Slytherin.”

Daphne smiled at her. “It’s not completely your fault, Hermione. He should have had the guts to tell you that he was seeing me.”

“He would have done if I wasn’t so blind when it came to Slytherins. I’ve been so unfair and prejudiced towards you all for a while now,” she confessed, finding it easier now that she’d already confronted these feelings with Hera.

The other witch patted her arm. “It’s understandable, really. I mean, we Slytherins weren’t exactly welcoming to you when you started at Hogwarts. I want to assure you that I really don’t feel that way about Muggle-borns anymore. Seeing Voldemort in action and being at Hogwarts for that terrible seventh-year cured me of any misguided ideas of blood purity. The reality was brutal and terrifying.”

“Yes, I think we are all still struggling to recover,” she said softly.

“Some more than others,” Daphne said pointedly. “I know you don’t want to hear it but Draco has suffered a lot too. I don’t know anyone more changed from the experience than him.”

Hermione could feel herself tensing up at the mention of Malfoy’s name. She was pleased that she and Daphne had managed to have a civilised lunch so far but wasn’t sure how long this would continue if they started to talk about him.

“I can tell you don’t want to discuss it but, Hermione, he just needs you to give him a chance.”

“Look, I know that I haven’t always been fair - especially towards you - but Draco Malfoy doesn’t deserve a chance from me. He’s done things that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive,” she snapped.

“Yes and he did them at a very young age. He didn’t stand much of a chance-,” 

“He did have a choice about the way he behaved. No one made him be such an arrogant arsehole who took every opportunity to bully those he deemed inferior to him.”

“You’re right. He was insufferable at Hogwarts but he was a spoilt little kid who had heard too many adult conversations. He wasn’t shielded like many of us were. He lived and breathed the blood purity ideology. He was taught that Voldemort was a great wizard from the cradle and I wouldn’t be surprised if his first word was ‘Mudblood’.”

“You’re hardly endearing him to me, Daphne. In fact, you’re re-enforcing what I already thought.” 

“Because you’re not listening to what I have to say. It’s hard to go against what you’ve been taught your entire life, especially when you’re a pure-blood and there are certain standards. Respecting your elders, especially your father, is one. You aren’t encouraged to question what you are told. In fact, you’re actively discouraged from doing so. It wasn’t until Draco was knee-deep in Voldemort’s ranks that the truth hit him.” 

“It’s easy for him to claim that now,” she scoffed. “But his actions don’t really back this up.”

“Don’t they?” Daphne shot back. “Didn’t he refuse to kill Dumbledore? He couldn’t do it. We all saw him deteriorate that year. Given a mission he was fully expected to fail, all to punish his father. Harry’s told me about what he said at the top of the Astronomy Tower and it’s one the reasons that he was able to forgive him for his past actions. He saw how tormented Draco was and how Dumbledore may well have managed to get him to go to the Order for protection but the other Death Eaters turned up and Draco knew that if he accepted Dumbledore’s offer in front of them his family would be killed. He loves his mother more than anything in the world and to see her punished for his mistakes almost killed him.”

Hermione was quiet. She didn’t know to respond. She had made everything in her world black and white and the last few weeks had seen the re-emergence of multitude colours of grey. She didn’t want to find herself feeling sorry for Malfoy, she just wanted to continue to hate him. She certainly didn’t appreciate the understanding of his behaviour that Daphne was bringing. 

Almost as if she could see the conflict raging in her, the other witch continued, “Please, Hermione, just give him a chance. He’s defensive but if you give him an opportunity then he’ll grab at it. That’s all he needs.”

“That’s easy to promise, but not easy to put in practice. He infuriates me.”

Daphne laughed in understanding. “Believe me, I understand that more than you can realise. But once you get past the bravado and reach the real Draco, you’ll see how different he truly is. He may surprise you.”

The arrival of their food broke up the heavy conversation. The women moved onto less intense topics and by the time they split the bill, they found that they had a lot in common. A lot more than Hermione had ever imagined possible. 

She walked away from the lunch with a lot more to think about. Was Daphne correct in her assessment of Malfoy? He hadn’t shown her in anyway that he’d changed. _Hasn’t he?_ A voice in her head questioned. _Remember how upset he seemed at the meeting when you referred to yourself as a Mudblood_. If he really was the same scumbag he’d been at Hogwarts, wouldn’t he be protesting loudly about having to marry her? Not sitting behind her, whispering in her ear and stroking her hair. 

Hermione had done such an emotion turn in the last few days that she felt drained. All she wanted to do was collapse on the sofa, eat ice cream and watch a non-challenging film. She promised herself that she’d do just that over the weekend.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! A chapter where Hermione and Draco actually have a conversation rather than an argument!

“Draco Malfoy, get down here now!” Narcissa shouted at her son, who still hadn’t made an appearance and there was only fifteen minutes until the Grangers arrived.

The slow steady tread down the stairs heralded the arrival of Severus. Narcissa turned around to see what he’d look like in the Muggle-appropriate outfit she’d picked out for him. When she saw him, her lower lip jutted out, a frown marred her usually beautiful features and she put her hands on her hips.

“What are you wearing?” she asked.

“My robes,” Severus responded.

“What happened to the trousers and shirt I put out for you?” 

Severus gave his wife a look that he usually reserved for Gryffindors: a mixture of contempt and pity.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Narcissa said

“I presumed you were joking,” he replied to her previous question.

“Since when do I joke about fashion?” 

“Since you put out such things for me to wear… and in blue,” he said bitingly.

“I think you’d look adorable in blue.”

A snigger from behind the bickering couple betrayed the presence of Draco.

“It’s about time you turned up,” Narcissa said, turning to face her son.

She automatically started to smooth down his hair, checking his face for smudges and fiddled with his shirt, smoothing it down over his shoulders. 

He squirmed out of his mother’s grip. “Mother, stop it. I’m twenty-four years old, I think I can dress myself by now.”

“That’s why you still wear the clothes your mother chooses for you,” Severus said with a smirk.

Draco shot his stepfather a glare.

“You do look dashing in jeans,” his mother gushed. “It’s a good thing your father isn’t here to see you, though.”

“Speaking of old-fashioned dinosaurs, Mother, what were you thinking in trying to get Severus out of his robes and into something with colours?”

“I just thought he’d want to make Hermione’s parents feel more comfortable,” Narcissa sighed.

Draco smirked. “Yes, because Granger was always Severus’ favourite student. What was it you always used to call her, Sev? An insufferable know-it-all?”

Severus eyed his stepson with dislike. “You’re the one being insufferable right now.”

Narcissa tutted at her two boys. “Enough. It’s too late for Severus to change now. And the pair of you will be on your best behaviour. There will be no teasing Hermione, Draco. And as for you, Severus, you cannot sulk in the corner. I fully expect you to make conversation with Matthew and Rachel. And let us not forget that this is the first time Hermione is returning to Malfoy Manor since The Incident, so if either of you make it any harder for her than it already is, you’ll face my wrath.”

Draco and Severus both nodded. They knew Narcissa wasn’t joking and she was remarkably scary when she put her mind to it. 

The wards pulsed. “Right, that will be Hermione Apparating them all to outside our gates. Could you go and let them in please, Draco?”

Draco walked down the long path through Malfoy Manor’s grounds to the front gates. He was incredibly apprehensive. This was a make or break moment for him and Granger. If it went badly then he knew there would be no way back. He also didn’t need his mother to remind him of Granger’s last visit here. That day was engraved in his memory forever. The horror of seeing Potter, Weasley and her dragged in by the Snatchers and then witnessing his aunt’s deprived torture of her, who stood firm despite the agony he knew she was in. 

His crush on the pretty brunette had turned into love that day. It had taken years for him to realise that but seeing her writhing on the floor, refusing to give up Potter’s secrets had cemented just how incredibly wonderful she was. It was a shame that she was completely incapable of seeing him as anything other than the little brat who’d bullied her mercilessly during their years at Hogwarts. If Draco had a time-turner, he’d go back in time and smack himself for being such a prat and wrecking his future chances of happiness.

\---------

Hermione drew a deep breath as she surveyed the large wrought iron gates with a slight panic. She didn’t feel ready enough to face this demon but her mother had given her no choice. She thought back to two days ago, when Rachel had sprung this surprise on her.

\---------

_“Hermione, I’ve been through your closet and you have no decent clothes,” her mum called to her when she got home._

_Hermione frowned in puzzlement. Why was her mum in her flat and going through her clothes? And what exactly did ‘decent’ mean?_

_“Decent for what?”_

_“For tea on Sunday.”_

_“We never have tea. Where are we going?” she asked, leaning against her doorframe, staring at her mother who was frantically rifling through her wardrobe._

_“We’re going to Malfoy Manor. Narcissa came by a few days ago and invited us.”_

_Hermione clutched the door for support. She was starting to feel as if she was living in a parallel universe where nothing was at it should be._

_“What? We’re going to Malfoy Manor? When did you plan on asking me if this was okay?”_

_Rachel smiled indulgently at her daughter, which made Hermione’s anger rise even further._

_“Darling, if I had asked you to come then you would have said no without even giving it any consideration.”_

_“For a reason, Mum! I have been to Malfoy Manor before and it wasn’t exactly a bed of roses!” she exclaimed._

_Rachel came over to her daughter and held her hand. “Yes, I know, dear, but you apparently have to marry Draco and I think you need to confront these things, especially as Malfoy Manor is his house.”_

_Hermione hadn’t really considered this aspect and she started to hyperventilate. “It’s too soon!”_

_Rachel pulled her onto the bed and put her arms around her, encouraging her to take deep, steady breaths. “Please try to calm down. I’ve okayed this visit with your therapist.”_

_She turned to stare at her mum in shock._

_“I know that breaches client-therapist etiquette but I wanted to run the invite past her. I don’t want to stress you out for entertainment. Hera said that whilst she wouldn’t normally recommend this so early on, these aren’t exactly normal circumstances. She also enclosed this letter for you,” Rachel said, handing a piece of parchment over to Hermione._

_“Please read it before you decide outright to refuse to come to Malfoy Manor with your father and me.”_

 

Dear Hermione,

Please excuse the contact I have had with your family. This is not usually something I would agree or engage in but your case is so unique that I felt I needed to speak to Rachel about the implications this visit could have on you.

Your mother wrote to me asking whether I thought a trip to Malfoy Manor might be too much for you to cope with. Usually, I would forbid such actions so early on in a patient’s treatment but I feel that, in your case, it may actually be beneficial. Before you feel betrayed by us all, please read my reasons for agreeing.

You find yourself in a very awkward position where you are likely going to have to marry a man whom you have considered an enemy for a long while. Not only did he bully you during your schooldays, but he also witnessed the most painful event in your life. The temptation to bury your head in the sand and not go must be very strong but this would be a mistake.

You are going to have to confront this aspect of your life at some point if this marriage is going to go ahead and, excuse the cliché, but the sooner the better. It also may help you bond with Draco Malfoy, something that is key for a successful marriage.

Best wishes,  
Hera

_Hermione read the letter over several times before she responded to her mum. “Why was Narcissa here?”_

_“She came to make our acquaintance as we are going to be related by marriage. She was very pleasant and polite. We only want to make things easier for you and Draco and the pair of you do need to spend time together.”_

_Hermione was too logical not to see the sense in this. She was going to have to be able to spend more than a few minutes in same room as the ferret without them having a full-scale row. She found herself reluctantly agreeing to go and was disconcerted to find herself whipped off to the shops to find something ‘more suitable’ to wear to quote her mother._

\---------

This was how she found herself standing in front of the gates of Malfoy Manor, wearing an outfit her mother had picked out. She felt uncomfortable and nervous, which increased as she recognised Draco Malfoy striding towards them down the drive.

He adjusted the wards and opened the gate. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Gran-… er… Hermione,” he said politely.

Hermione mentally grimaced as her mother smiled sweetly at him. “Oh, Draco dear, I thought I told you to call me Rachel.”

“I’m sorry, Rachel, it’s force of habit,” he responded, a little too suavely for Hermione’s liking.

She unconsciously tensed as the Slytherin turned his attention on her. “You look very nice, Granger,” he said.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at this very un-Malfoy display of politeness. He was never this nice to her. He offered her his arm to lead her back up to the house. She looked warily at it and then at her mum, who nodded her encouragement. She sighed and put her hand lightly on his forearm - she wasn’t going to be shown up by being petulant towards his manners.

A strained silence lingered between the young couple until they’d walked halfway up the drive.

“Are you going to be okay? I promise you the house doesn’t look the same,” Malfoy asked with concern.

She turned to look at him in surprise; she hadn’t thought that he would even be aware of how difficult today would be for her.

“Really, Granger? You think that badly of me?” he asked, reading her face like a book.

She flushed. “I’m just surprised that you would realise that this was my first time back or even really remember that day.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I think I’d recall if you’d received an invite to come back, Kitten. And you must think I’m a heartless bastard. How could I forget that day? It rates as one of the worst of my life.”

Hermione decided to ignore the nickname. It had gotten to the point where she didn’t think Malfoy even realised he was using it. 

“I guess I didn’t really think about how that day may have affected you.”

“Yeah, that’s because you think I’m Draco the Death Eater who enjoys torturing Muggle-borns.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, getting upset. “I don’t think of you as a Death Eater.”

“That’s something, I guess. But you still think of me as evil, otherwise you wouldn’t be so upset at Potter and Weasley for associating with me.”

She looked down at the ground, realising that she did think of him as evil and when he put it like that she felt bad. 

“I guess I still see you as that twelve-year-old boy who called me a Mudblood and wished the basilisk would kill me.”

She looked up at him as she finished and was surprised to see that his cheeks had reddened. He stopped and turned her to face him. “I’m not that spoilt little kid anymore. The war made me realise how ridiculous and destructive that thinking was. If anything, the year I lived in the Muggle world with no magic brought home to me how utterly stupid it was to think that Muggles are inferior. Blood no longer matters to me.” 

She couldn’t help but believe him. He looked straight into her eyes with an intensity that couldn’t be faked. Sincerity radiated off him and if he were still a prejudiced git then it would have been easy to discern in his dealings with her mum. 

“It’s okay, Malfoy, I believe you. I know I’ve been stubborn since the war ended about you and Slytherins in general but I recognise that this actually has more to do with me than you and I’m getting help for it.”

He smiled down at her before squeezing her hand and placing it back on his forearm. “That’s good to hear. Now, we’d better make it to the house before Mother has a breakdown and believes we’ve actually killed each other.”

\---------

Draco felt positive as he led Hermione the rest of the way to the house. Whilst it was difficult to digest what had just happened between them, they appeared to have reached an understanding that he thought would have been impossible before that small conversation. And Granger had actually admitted that she was wrong. It seemed that she was willing to give him a chance after all. He’d have to thank George for bringing this about, who had relayed bits of what had happened in the shop after Pansy’s outburst, which had seemed to breach the emotional dam Granger had been hiding behind. The improvement in her attitude was marked and gave him some hope that this marriage wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

As Draco had predicted, the unusually long walk back up to the Manor had left Narcissa in a state of agitation. She was a rambling mess as they made an appearance.

“Rachel, dear, how lovely it is to see you. Please come in, Matthew, and hand you coat to Tufty there.”

Matthew looked around until his wife discretely pointed out the small house-elf that was waiting patiently. 

“Ah, Hermione, there you are. Don’t you look exquisite,” Narcissa said when Hermione stepped round past her dad. 

Draco couldn’t help but smirk as the visibly nervous Gryffindor was pulled into a hug with his mother. It was obvious that she didn’t know what to do with her hands and settled with placing them lightly on Narcissa’s back. Her face was visible to Draco and she looked confused. Narcissa’s public persona as an ice-queen didn’t tally up with this warm and slightly nervous woman welcoming them all now.

“Cissa, you may want to let the girl go so that she can breathe,” Severus suggested.

Draco watched as Hermione looked up at her former Potions Professor who had managed to retain the intimidating demeanour that had struck fear into his students.

“Professor Snape, it’s lovely to see you,” Granger said, patently lying.

“Miss Granger,” Severus acknowledged.

\---------

Hermione was trying her hardest to keep a hold on her emotions as they started to walk through the Manor. It was pretty unrecognisable from the last time she’d been here but bits and pieces would suddenly seem familiar and she was getting uncomfortable flashbacks about that dark day during the war.

She was so wrapped in her own thoughts that she didn’t realise that everyone was covertly watching her and her reactions. She was vaguely aware when they entered a lovely sunroom, filled with so many plants that it seemed an extension to the gardens outside. 

As everyone else started to settle into seats, Hermione remained stock still, staring in front of her with unseeing eyes and started to hyperventilate, which threw her a little but once she started she seemed unable to stop.

“I can’t do it!” she cried. “I have to get out of here.”

Rachel and Matthew started to fret at their visibly upset daughter and Narcissa bit her lip, not knowing what to suggest. The most unlikely person stepped into the breach.

“Draco, why don’t you take Miss Granger out to see the gardens,” Severus said, an unusual tone of sympathy entering his voice.

Draco attempted to gesture Hermione out into the garden through the patio doors, but she just stood there, seemingly ignoring everything going on around her. He ended up taking a hold of her hand and dragging her outside. 

The gardens were a blur to Hermione. She was stuck in the past reliving everything that had happened and stressing quite considerably about how she could escape. She was pushed down onto a stone bench and fingers were snapped in her face. 

“Earth to Granger,” Malfoy said, continuing to wave his fingers in front of her eyes.

Her attention snapped back to the present. She looked around a little confused as to where they were and found that she was sitting on the side of a fountain with Draco Malfoy kneeling down in front of her.

“Welcome back. Are you okay?” 

She gave him an exasperated look. “Oh yes, I’m perfect, thanks. I just had a meltdown in front of your parents,” she replied sarcastically.

“Ah, there’s the Granger we all know and love.” 

Hermione realised she was outside without a coat and it was November. The gardens looked pretty desolate in the bleak winter’s day. 

“How come I’m not cold?”

He rolled his eyes, “Trust you to come out of a trance asking questions. We put a warming charm over the gardens.”

“Oh!”

Malfoy got up and sat next to her, facing her. He examined his fingernails for a moment. “So… er… do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Hermione gave him a level stare. “Oh, Draco,” she said in a false girly voice. “I’ve just been dying to open up to you about all my problems. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed before.”

“I thought you were meant to be making an effort these days.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Pansy said you’ve started to go to counselling and Daphne told me that you’d arranged a lunch with her and you actually managed to talk for a good hour or so.”

“Is that all anyone does these days - gossip? And how did Pansy know about my going to counselling?” 

“In case you haven’t noticed, George and Pansy are doing a lot better than we are. They’ve actually been spending time together. George told her about you seeking help when he apologised for how awful you were to her in his shop.”

“Traitor,” she muttered.

Malfoy smirked at her. “Add ‘blood’ in front of that and you sound like Pansy back at Hogwarts.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“I was being genuine a minute ago. If you want to talk about anything, you can.”

Since her session with Hera, Hermione had got a lot better at expressing herself but that didn’t mean she wanted to go into her fragile psyche with Draco Malfoy. It felt a little too new and raw to do that.

“Thanks, that’s a nice gesture, but I’m still coming to terms with this whole talking about your emotions thing.”

Malfoy smiled - an actual genuine smile - something Hermione hadn’t seen too often on his face. “I know that feeling. After the war, the Ministry made me attend counselling. It was compulsory for former Death Eaters who escaped Azkaban.”

“I thought you were the only Death Eater who didn’t get sent to Azkaban.”

“Exactly. It was almost as if they formulated the most awful punishments for me.”

“Aw, ickle Malfoy, I feel so sowwy for you,” she mocked.

“Are you going to let me talk or are you just going to bitch about everything I say?”

“Okay, sorry. Please go ahead and spill your guts. I’m pretty curious about what makes Draco Malfoy tick, anyway.”

He grinned at her. “Is that a first, Granger? Actually admitting you have an interest in me?”

She scowled. “Are you going to continue or what?”

“Anyway, as I was saying, it felt as if the Ministry had come up with the best ways to torture me. First they sent me off to the Muggle world to live for a year and the only contact I was allowed with wizards was to see this counsellor once a week. At the time I thought it was worse than being sentenced to Azkaban. I then realised how inventive Muggles were. We wizards are so used to just being able to swish and flick our wands and having pretty much anything happen. You can imagine how disastrous my first attempts at washing my clothes or cooking food were.”

Hermione giggled. She couldn’t imagine Mr Pure-blood even managing for a day. “Couldn’t you just hire a cleaner and go to restaurants?”

“No. The Ministry gave me an allowance. The point of the exercise was to learn to appreciate Muggles and the solutions they come up with life without magic. Treating them like house-elves wouldn’t have done much to show me that. I think my counsellor wanted to kill me the first few sessions. Instead of opening my heart up about life under the Dark Lord, I spent the whole time moaning about washing machines and burnt toast.”

When he finished, she was laughing so hard that she almost fell into the fountain. 

“Careful!” Malfoy warned as he grabbed her. “Eventually, he got me to open up. It was hard and I felt raw by the end of it but it helped me make a lot of sense of what had happened. I guess, what I’m trying to say is to stick with it. You’ll feel emotional at first but it’ll improve.”

She nodded, feeling a little teary. Who knew Malfoy could give such good advice or empathise with what she was going through?

“So, did you ever manage to settle down in the Muggle world?” she asked curiously.

He laughed. “By the end of the year, I’d come to love living there. I didn’t know what to do when they handed me back my wand. I still go regularly. Potter and I bonded over our love of action films.”

“Now that would be a sight to behold! You and Harry going to the cinema together.”

“Come with us next time. Harry drags Daphne along every so often.”

Hermione smiled shyly at him. “I think I’d like that.”

The pair sat in companionable silence for a while. She was enjoying the peace of the gardens. She was always running around in the hustle and bustle of London and rarely got to enjoy the quiet of the countryside and it didn’t get much more rural than Malfoy Manor. Sitting there listening to the birds with him was one of the most pleasurable things she’d done in a long while. That made her sad. She didn’t take time to just stand still and take stock - she was too busy always moving onto the next task.

He touched her arm, “Come on, I think we’d better get back. The house-elves have spent hours making a delicious tea and they’d be devastated if you weren’t there to taste it.”

“Why me particularly?” she asked.

“Because you’re the famous Hermione Granger, liberator of house-elves. They adore you.”

“Really? Do you think I could go and meet them?”

“That’d make their day. I’ll take you down to the kitchens after tea.”

Hermione smiled up at him and her heart skipped a few beats at how stunning he looked with his hair ruffled by the wind and without that hateful smirk on his face.

\-----------

Tea went well. Rachel and Matthew visibly relaxed when their daughter returned, laughing at something Malfoy was telling her. Hermione caught the triumphant look her mum sent her dad.

Draco sat Hermione in between him and Severus and dragged his stepfather into a conversation with her about potions. Soon the ex-professor and his former student were knee-deep in a complicated conversation about Wolfsbane and werewolves. As usual, she was arguing passionately about equal rights for werewolves, using the example of the humanity of Remus Lupin to drive home her point.

“The one thing you are missing, Miss Granger, is that Lupin was an exception to the rule. Werewolves are much more likely to be like Fenrir Greyback and I’m sure you don’t need reminders of him,” Snape said.

Hermione shivered a little at that. “No, but Greyback was an extreme example. I really do believe that werewolves would be a lot more like Remus if they were given the opportunity to integrate better in society and the Wolfsbane potion gives them the chance to do that.”

Snape rolled his eyes at the passionate brunette. “Even if you do turn out to be correct about that, and I severely doubt it, you still have to get past the understandable fear the community has, especially after Greyback’s crimes under Voldemort.”

“I don’t accept narrow mindedness and I’m making significant headway when it comes to house-elves. People have even started to free their elves.”

“Yes, but the one thing you are not taking into consideration is that house elves are small and, some may say, cute. They also like to work and will barter their families _down_ when it comes to pay and holidays. Compared to your legislation, the easier option is to free house-elves and pay them a pittance.”

Hermione’s shoulders slumped a little at that. Her former professor had a point, especially as she had enforced legislation with severe penalties if caught abusing your house-elves. 

“Well, I still think with a little hard work and education, opinions can be changed towards werewolves.”

“That’s a typical Gryffindor attitude. You have no grasp of nuances,” Snape said bitingly.

\-------

Realising that this could turn into a fight pretty quickly, Draco brought the conversation to a close and offered to take her down to see the house-elves.

“Oh! Yes, please,” she said excitedly.

Narcissa looked bemused whilst Severus looked distinctly unimpressed.

“We’ll be out in the greenhouses, Draco,” Narcissa informed her son. “Rachel expressed a desire to see some of our magical plants.”

Draco led Hermione down to the large kitchen at the back of Manor. He’d already warned his elves to expect a visitor and they had been all a-twitter. He gently pushed her into the kitchen ahead of him and she was besieged with adoring elfish fans.

“Mistress Granger, you came to see Coco,” one little house elf gushed at her.

“Master said you were coming but Tilly didn’t think you would,” another said squeakily.

“Of course I’d come down to see you,” she said, touched at the welcome she was receiving. 

Two house-elves dragged her to the table and sat her down, whilst another one put a plate in front of her full of more cakes and biscuits.

“Oh, thank you, but I couldn’t eat another thing after the delicious tea,” she said much to their disappointment.

“Master gave Coco all your favourite foods and Coco made them especially for you,” the first elf said.

She gave Draco a quizzical look, who brazened it out, not wanting to tell her that he’d asked Harry and Ron for a list of her favourite cakes so they could be made for today.

Hermione settled down and talked to the elves. She found out the names of the other two: Weetie and Tufty, who she briefly remembered from upstairs. She hadn’t been paying too much attention at that point, her mind on other, more pressing matters.

“So tell me, what are you pay and holidays like?” she asked, ignoring the snort from behind her.

“Master is too kind to Tilly and the others. He gives us a galleon a week and a day off,” Tilly said. 

“Coco tried to bargain him down but Master refused to accept less,” Coco said sadly.

Hermione laughed at that. “But surely you want to be paid fairly and that seems very fair.”

“Tilly serves Master because Tilly loves him. Tilly would accept much less.” 

Hermione raised her eyebrows at that and back to the two talkative house-elves. The other two were much happier staying in the distance, obviously more shy.

“Master is very good to Coco. Coco gets new clothes four times a year, too. Anything Coco wants.”

Hermione looked at what they were wearing. “But you are all wearing tea-towels… except Coco,” she pointed out.

“Oh yes, but tea towels are most comfortable. Only Coco wants proper clothes,” Tufty said, shooting a dark glance at the Coco, who was wearing a rather lurid yellow dress with purple pineapples on it.

Coco ignored him, just sticking her tongue out and swishing the skirt of her dress around. “Coco loves pretty clothes and Master always buys Coco the prettiest.”

Hermione spent a further twenty minutes with the house-elves. She loved their enthusiasm and could see that they truly enjoyed working at Malfoy Manor. It seemed Malfoy was vastly different from his father, who had mistreated Dobby horrendously. 

“Thank you for taking me to see them,” she said as they went to track their parents down.

“No problem. I knew you’d enjoy talking to them and they always ask Potter and Weasley about you.”

\--------

By the time Hermione and her parents were leaving, she was feeling a lot more comfortable. She couldn’t believe that she had enjoyed her afternoon at Malfoy Manor but she had. The pleasant visit had washed away the stain of her brief imprisonment there but she didn’t want to say this to her mum, who was looking very pleased with herself.

She had to admit that her mum had been right to drag her there. Whilst it had been difficult at first, she had got to know Malfoy a lot better and she felt that she had the start of an understanding with him. She was still keen to break the curse but it no longer felt like the prison sentence it had before. 

Malfoy turned towards Hermione after saying goodbye to her parents. “I enjoyed our afternoon together, Kitten,” he said.

“Before I go, answer me one thing. Why ‘Kitten’?”

Malfoy cracked up into laughter, drawing all the attention to them. “I couldn’t resist. You hate it so much,” he replied, before bending down to whisper in her ear, “Besides, when you get angry, you look just like a kitten with its claws out and its fur all ruffled up. It’s adorable.”

She didn’t know whether to be irritated or embarrassed. She settled for a combination of both, her cheeks reddening whilst she shot him a glare. “I am not adorable!” she hissed.

“Of course you aren’t, Kitten,” he said with a wink.

She flounced away from the annoying blond git towards his mother, who was watching the pair with an amused glint in her eye.


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione awoke the next morning with mixed feelings. Her mum had been triumphant all evening about how successful the trip to Malfoy Manor had been. Her dad seemed to have relaxed a little more too, calmed by her apparent ease with Draco Malfoy. She herself had been a little amazed by the fact that he and Professor Snape could talk about rugby of all things, even if they did prefer different codes. 

But lying in bed now, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it all. Yesterday seemed as if it had been an afternoon out of time. She’d been so worried about returning to Malfoy Manor and then Malfoy had been so nice that it had completely thrown her out of sync with everything. He had never been like that with her and whilst it had put her at ease, she now felt unsure. Was everyone right about him? Had he truly reformed? Had she been clinging unnecessarily to all this anger and hatred for so long for no reason? She wasn’t sure how to feel about that, either. It felt as if the past few years had been a waste of her life. She was now confused about so many aspects of this whole situation and cursed that she had to go into work when all she wanted to do was lie in bed and analyse what on earth was going on. 

The best thing about being a witch was all the time that Hermione saved on commuting. It meant that she got a whole extra hour in bed and didn’t have to worry about squeezing herself onto a train going into central London with hundreds of other commuters. She walked downstairs and settled down for a leisurely cup of tea and some toast. Her mum was humming whilst flittering around the kitchen. 

“How are you feeling this morning, Fuzzy Bear?” Matthew asked, looking up from his newspaper. 

“Okay,” she mumbled in reply, hoping neither of her parents would notice that she was feeling a little down. 

Of course her hopes weren’t realised, and her mother whirled round and gave her a penetrating stare. “What’s wrong, Sweetie?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that, I’m your mother, I know something’s not right. Come on, open up!”

Matthew just sat opposite Hermione with his level gaze settled on her face. She knew she was cornered and was going to have to tell them what was going on.

“I just feel a little strange after yesterday.”

“Well that’s bound to happen, isn’t it?” Rachel said.

“I don’t know,” she said huffily. “I’m confused. Why was Malfoy so nice? He’s never nice to me. And Narcissa Snape was just strange. She’s always been so superior every time I’ve seen her, leaving me in no doubt where she thinks my place in the world is, but yesterday she was welcoming and warm. The only one who was normal was Snape. He still managed to make me feel like a silly schoolgirl over the Wolfsbane Potion.”

“I don’t know how Narcissa and Draco were in the past other than what you’ve told us, but since we’ve met them, they’ve been nothing but polite and friendly. Isn’t it possible that they really have changed? Narcissa has gone out of her way to welcome your dad and I and to make us feel comfortable in your world.”

Hermione rubbed her forehead. “I know and this is what confuses me. Just two months ago, everything made so much more sense to me and now I feel like my world is topsy-turvy.”

Rachel smiled and patted her daughter’s hand. “You just need some time to get used to the change, Sweetie. Spend some time with Draco and I’m sure your feelings will work themselves out.”

She gave her mum a weak smile. Rachel got back up whilst Matthew leant forward and grasped his daughter’s hand. “You know I don’t like to agree with your mum too much - it goes to her head - but I think in this case she’s right. Try to trust your gut instincts, Fuzzy Bear. What’s it telling you about Malfoy?”

With that, her dad managed to get to the bottom of why Hermione was feeling so bewildered. Her gut instinct yesterday had told her to trust Malfoy and she’d relaxed in his presence. But her brain continued to scream warnings about their past which had come out in a series of bizarre nightmares last night; they had all starred Malfoy in some sort of Death Eater form.

\--------

Whilst Hermione liked Ernie, he wasn’t one of her closest friends and she didn’t feel the need to confide in him. It was at times like this that she was very glad about that. She needed some hours of normality, without questions about her counselling or her feelings towards Malfoy. Unfortunately for Hermione, those hours soon passed and before she knew it, Ron and Harry were banging open her office door.

“All right, Hermione, lunchtime. Grab your coat and your bag!” Ron yelled after barging the door back on its hinges.

“Why, hello to you too, Ronald. How nice of you to so calmly request my presence at lunch,” she said, smiling. 

“Sorry, sweet Hermione. Would you like to accompany us on our quest for nourishment?” he said sarcastically.

Ernie laughed whilst Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Now that you’ve managed to ask me with at least a modicum of grace, then yes. Where are we going?”

“Dunno. Harry, got any ideas?”

The three of them finally settled on a small little café that was off the beaten path. It was usually pretty quiet which the three of them loved. It was a perfect place to talk and the fact Harry and Ron had barged into her office meant that they wanted all the juicy details about yesterday’s visit to Malfoy Manor. This was probably because she had sent them an owl in a panic on Friday night after she found out that she had to go, and they had both sent reassuring responses back to her. She’d also had an owl waiting from them when she returned yesterday and she’d sent back a fairly positive reply, which she knew had probably scared them a little. 

Once they’d all ordered and sat at a table, Harry and Ron stared at Hermione expectantly. 

“Well as you can imagine, I did have a mini-meltdown and it was highly embarrassing. Snape actually had to step up and take charge,” she said, shuddering.

Ron grimaced. “He scares me every time I go to visit Malfoy. He’s always just lurking in the parlour. I swear he married Draco’s mum just so he would still be in our lives, freaking us out.”

“So what happened?” Harry asked, getting them back on track and away from Ron’s anti-Snape rant.

“Malfoy took me out to the garden, I calmed down and we talked. Then we went back in, had tea and then he took me to visit his elves,” she surmised.

“Oh, did you see Coco? She’s like a female Dobby when it comes to Harry. I always keep meaning to ask her if she’s actually related to him. She always fawning over Harry like he’s the messiah,” Ron remarked.

Hermione giggled as Harry glared at his annoying redheaded best friend. “Have you quite finished, Ron? Got it all out of your system? Can I continue to ask Hermione the important questions now?”

Ron went bright red. “Er… yes, I guess so. Besides, here’s my potato. I’m hungry. You talk, Hermione.”

Harry and Hermione both turned away from Ron who was now happily tucking into the largest jacket potato that Hermione had ever seen. 

“So what did you and Draco talk about?” Harry asked.

“Counselling. He told me to stick with it even though I am feeling delicate and emotional about it right now. He said that he hated it at first but that it proved to be really good for him. He also told me a bit about his life in the Muggle world.”

“So that’s positive then,” he commented.

“Well yes, I guess,” she replied.

“What do you mean you guess?”

“I don’t know. I just feel really weird about it all today. He made me feel calm and relaxed and I had a good time.”

“And now you’re confused because it’s Malfoy and you shouldn’t feel any of those things around him?” Harry remarked.

Hermione just nodded. 

Harry smiled and nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Been there and done that. It was the same with us,” he said, pointing his bread at Ron. “When we first started being around Draco in a friendly environment, it felt unnatural. This was the kid who had been my main rival at school and to sit and joke with him was strange. But you can’t think too much about it because you’ll just give yourself a headache. If it felt right then just go with it.”

“You sound like my dad. He told me to follow my gut instinct this morning.”

“I always said your dad was a wise man.”

“That’s only because you’re scared of him,” Ron said thickly.

Harry just hit him around the head. “Look Hermione, the whole point of you going to the counselling and everything is so that you can deal with your issues and not feel hatred anymore. I don’t think you should try to hang on to any of the hostility just because you think you’re being too friendly with Draco too quickly.”

This made a lot of sense to her. It was true that she was worrying a lot about yesterday because she thought that she should still be feeling uncomfortable around Malfoy. She’d only had a few counselling sessions and had thought that her progress would be a lot slower than it was. 

“So you don’t think it’s too fast to be letting all that anger go?”

“You always were a quick study, Hermione. Who knows what’s normal with you?” Ron said.

“Thanks, I think,” Hermione replied drily.

“Here’s a chance to test out if yesterday was a fluke or not. Draco just walked in,” Harry said, pointing out the tall blond currently standing at the counter.

As if feeling three pairs of eyes on him, Malfoy looked up and spotted them staring at him from the corner. Hermione gulped a little as he smiled in their direction and walked towards them.

“Potter, swap seats with me!” Malfoy ordered when he got to their table.

Harry just raised a brow in response. 

“If you think I’m sitting next to that heathen whilst he eats that potato, you have another think coming. I’ll end up covered in tuna and cheese,” Malfoy stated.

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. He got up mainly to keep the peace but also because a plan was forming in his mind to help Hermione out and it would require Ron finishing his lunch quickly. He and Hermione had each had a normal sized sandwich and were already done. 

Harry flourished a flowery bow as he pulled his former chair out. “Here you go, delicate little princeling.”

Malfoy made much of showing he was taller than Harry before he sat down. He placed his takeaway coffee cup on the table in front and ringed his hands around it. “Shouldn’t the Ministry be collapsing with all three of its heroes out to lunch at the same time?”

“Do you even have a job, Malfoy?” Hermione asked sweetly.

“Yes, I work at Serpentine Potions.”

“Oh,” she said before rallying, “So you do the tea and coffee run for the proper workers, then?”

Malfoy smirked at her. “Retract those claws, Kitten. I own the company along with Severus and Blaise.”

Now she felt foolish and blushed, pouted slightly and looked at Harry who suddenly swore and looked at his watch. “Shit, Ron, I completely forgot! but Kingsley came by earlier and moved the Auror team meeting forward a couple of hours. We’re meant to be there in ten minutes.”

Ron quickly gulped down his mouthful of food and stuffed the remaining enormous piece of potato in his mouth. 

“Ronald, that’s disgusting,” Hermione said. “No! No, don’t talk to me until you have finished chewing. I do not wish to be sprayed.”

“No time to wait for that, Hermione. We’ll catch up with you later,” Harry said before dragging Ron out of the café with him. 

She was now left with just Malfoy for company and felt incredibly awkward. “Er… well I’ll just get the bill and get back to work.”

Malfoy stayed her arm as she went to get the waitress’ attention. “I think Harry would be hurt if you just destroyed all his fine acting by leaving straight away.”

She frowned in confusion and saw that he had a smug smirk on his face. “What do you mean?” 

“He just lied about the Auror meeting to leave you and me alone. He seems to think he had a reason to do so.”

“How do you know he lied? You don’t work in the Auror department. The meeting may well have been moved forward.”

“Because I just walked most of the way here with Adrian, who would know if the if that was the case. He was planning on spending his lunch break with Angelina Johnson in Quality Quidditch Supplies.”

“Oh,” she said, a little vaguely before repeating the same word with a lot more emphasis and anger. 

“Precisely,” he replied. “Now, why, Kitten, did Harry think we needed to talk privately?”

Hermione squirmed a little, not really wanting to talk to the snarky Slytherin about how confused she was feeling about him today. She decided to settle on lying outright. “I don’t know.”

Malfoy looked at her completely unimpressed. “You may want to try that again without wringing your hands together, which completely gives away that you’re lying.”

“What if I don’t want to tell you? Harry has no right to try and force me into speaking to you about things that I’m not ready to,” she said sulkily.

“So it’s about yesterday, then?” 

“How do you know?” she asked before cursing herself for completely giving it away.

“Because you wouldn’t be Hermione Granger if you hadn’t stressed out and over-analysed everything that happened yesterday.”

“Well, did you not find it at all strange?” 

“Not really, no. I was pleased that you didn’t find it too stressful and that you managed to relax at some point, at least.”

“Why are you being so nice?” she whispered before looking away, a little embarrassed by the question.

She heard him sigh before his fingers took hold of her chin and turned her back to face him. “I’d rather say this whilst you’re looking at me so you can’t try and persuade yourself later that I was really being sarcastic and didn’t mean a word of it. Believe it or not, Granger, I don’t hate you. I’m sorry for all the hell I gave you in school. I was a mean and arrogant little kid with a chip on his shoulder and I hated the fact that you beat me at everything when I was pure-blood and you were Muggle-born. That’s not an excuse, just the truth.”

Hermione searched his face, looking for any sign that he was lying to her. She couldn’t see anything. It was the most open that Hermione had ever seen Malfoy’s face. She nodded slightly and he let go of her face. 

“So, can we look to put the past behind us and try to get to know each other? You know, just in case we do actually have to get married?” he asked.

She huffed a little at that and folded her arms. “I’m not marrying you. I’m going to break that curse!” 

Malfoy gave her a half-smile. “And I don’t expect anything less from you, Kitten, but spending a little time together wouldn’t exactly kill us.”

“It depends. If you keep on calling me Kitten, it may well kill you,” she said.

Malfoy laughed at that. “But I can’t help it. You make it so much fun.”

“I guess I can suffer being in the same room as you without having to leave.”

“Why, how magnanimous of you, Kitten.”

“Don’t push your luck though, Malfoy. Irritate me too much and I can revert in behaviour,” she threatened.

He shot her an amused glance. “If you noticed, Sweetheart, I never was too worried about your previous behaviour. Although that Stinging Hex did hurt.”

“I would apologise for marring your perfect face but you deserved it.”

“It is perfect, isn’t it?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself, Ferret Boy. You’re not that attractive.”

“I’m wounded, Granger. Mind you, that’s coming from a girl who dated Ron Weasley. I don’t think you have much taste in the looks department.” 

She narrowed her eyes at the smirking blond before asking the passing waitress for the bill. Malfoy stood up, picking his coffee up from in front of him. “I’d really like it if we could try and start again, Granger, and I am sorry for all the shit I gave you at Hogwarts and for how you were treated by my family during the war. My behaviour was unforgiveable and I don’t blame you if you refuse to have anything to do with me.”

Now she felt conflicted. She had hated this man for so long. Malfoy had represented so many bad things about her life but here he was apologising for the harm he’d caused her. He’d been really kind to her yesterday and was continuing to show that he had a sensitive side to him. Empathy was something she’d never have associated with a Malfoy but now he was showing an understanding of her feelings that - for someone who’d been best friends with Captain Oblivious, Ron Weasley, since she was twelve - she found pretty impressive. Her father had told her to go with her gut instinct and that instinct was currently telling her to give Draco Malfoy a second chance. If he messed up this time then she would annihilate him.

“I’d like that,” she responded shyly.

He gave her a dazzling smile before nodding and heading out the café. Hermione was happy to note that the confused feeling that had plagued her all day had disappeared. Maybe Harry wouldn’t be receiving a little visit from her after all. She was pretty sure that he was expecting her to turn up all, guns blazing after pulling that stunt. She decided it would be more fun to let him wait the afternoon out. The expectation of bumping into his angry friend would leave him on tenterhooks all day. She cackled to herself rather evilly.


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione had arranged to spend some time with Bill Weasley at Shell Cottage the weekend following her trip to Malfoy Manor. With all the emotional upheaval in her life, she felt that she had neglected Rowena Ravenclaw’s diaries as well as the curse. She couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for placing her emotional needs above this but Harry and Ron had soon shut her up. They were right; she needed to help herself before she could truly knuckle down and work on the curse. 

She was now feeling a lot more grounded than she had for years. Her sessions with Hera were continuing and she was getting a lot of bottled up emotions off her chest. And since that chat with Malfoy in the café, she also felt a lot more forgiving. All in all, she felt that she was now up to the task of tackling the curse properly. She’d spent every spare second she had after work that week reading through Ravenclaw’s diaries and she felt that she was now ready to meet with Bill and give breaking this curse a real go. 

Hermione could see what Minerva McGonagall meant; Rowena really did make a compelling case for her actions. Her journals detailed a descent into bickering, arguing and duelling between Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor that was taken up keenly by their houses’ students. It was not healthy for Hogwarts or the wizarding world in general and sadly had left a legacy of distrust between the two houses a millennium later. 

She had duplicated what she had read and sent the journals off to Bill so he could be on the same page that she was. She was very keen to see what he would make of them.

Hermione travelled to Shell Cottage at ten o’clock Saturday morning. She had butterflies in her stomach and was excited in a way that she hadn’t been since Harry, Ron and she had been running around defeating Voldemort in their teens. As much as she enjoyed her work promoting house-elf rights, there was nothing quite like the thrill of researching something as stimulating as a curse. 

“Hey Hermione,” Bill said, coming into the front room from the kitchen, two coffee cups in hand. He passed one to Hermione. “Thanks for duplicating the journals for me. They make a fascinating read.”

Hermione smiled at the eldest Weasley. She liked Bill; he was the Weasley most like her, despite his rather wild appearance. He enjoyed researching and solving difficult puzzles. It was the reason he had become a curse breaker. She took the outstretched cup of coffee and sipped on the reviving brew appreciatively. 

“Fleur makes the best coffee,” she commented.

“She’s also made us some croissants. Come into the kitchen and have some.” 

Hermione had not eaten breakfast on purpose. Fleur, for all her glamour, was more like her mother-in-law than people realised. She loved nurturing and you could never leave Shell Cottage without being fed at least once. They settled down at the kitchen table, a plate of warm croissants between them.

“By the way, I’m sorry for my knuckle-headed brother,” Bill said. “I can’t believe he and Harry kept so much from you, including their friendship with Malfoy.”

She smiled across at him. “I’m not going to lie and say that it didn’t hurt because it did - _a lot_. But I guess I understand it a bit better now than I did at the time.”

Bill quirked an enquiring brow. 

“I was pretty unreasonable when it came to Slytherins. I wouldn’t have understood. It’s taken this curse for me to look at myself and realise that I was irrational and prejudiced. I’ve started to see one of the Ministry counsellors and it’s helped me to address issues that I thought I’d dealt with but had just buried deep inside me,” she explained.

“You may have been a little crazy when it came to Slytherins but they are still lucky that you’re as forgiving as you are. You guys have gone through too much together to keep such large secrets from each other,” Bill said.

“If they lie to me again, they won’t get off so easily. I’ll skin them alive.”

“That’s my girl,” he said with a laugh. “So, I hear that you went to Malfoy Manor last week.”

“Is nothing a secret these days?”

“Not on the Weasley grapevine. How did it go?” 

“It was fine. I had a bit of a mini-breakdown but Malfoy took me for a walk around the gardens. We talked about quite a lot of things and he’s at least different from our school days. He still gets on my nerves though.”

Wisely, Bill kept quiet at that last bit. From what he’d seen at that debacle of a dinner at the Burrow a few weeks ago, Hermione and Malfoy had quite a bit of unresolved sexual tension going on. He could see that Malfoy teased Hermione mercilessly because he got a reaction from her. He could also see why as Hermione did look pretty magnificent when she was angry. And despite his cool demeanour, Malfoy was a passionate person. 

“He wouldn’t be Malfoy unless he was getting on someone’s nerves,” he pointed out.

“True,” she agreed. “Anyway, let’s get down to business and talk about this curse.”

“I find myself a little in agreement with McGonagall right now. The picture that Rowena Ravenclaw paints isn’t pretty. When I went to Hogwarts, the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor was there but nothing on this scale.”

“Welcome to my world,” Hermione said. “I’ve only ever known it to be nasty. First year wasn’t too bad I guess, but with the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, the rivalry and ill-will got a little intense and escalated from there.”

“Are you sure you want to actually undo this curse, then?” he asked.

“I see what you mean but it’s easy for you to say because you’re not the one being forced into marrying a Slytherin. I wouldn’t necessarily think this curse was such a bad thing if I wasn’t one of the unlucky ones having to see it through.”

Bill smiled at her. “Yeah, I get that. I mean, I’d hate it if I hadn’t been able to choose who to marry.”

“So have you had any ideas?”

“Hmm… not too many. I mean, from what I can glean, Rowena used her knowledge of Hogwarts to implement the curse. She is reputedly the one who created Hogwarts’ floor plan, moving staircases and all,” he said.

“Yes and seemingly asked Helga Hufflepuff to use her position with the house-elves to get them to help with some of the magic.”

“That’s the most interesting aspect of this curse for me. I’ve never heard of anyone harnessing the power of the house-elves to do such a thing, although you are possibly not so impressed.”

“I don’t approve of witches and wizards abusing the house-elves’ powers for our own gain but I’ve done a lot of research into Helga Hufflepuff and, to be honest, she’s possibly the most compassionate witch or wizard I’ve come across in relation to them.”

Bill gave her a cheeky grin. “Apart from you, of course.”

She rolled her eyes and swatted his hand away from the last croissant before snatching it up herself.

“Hey, that was the last one,” he complained.

“Yep, and you get to eat them all the time.”

He shot her a dirty look but she knew he didn’t mean it. It was just the Weasley appetite talking.

Hermione looked down at her notes. “Anyway, back to the curse. I was thinking that in order for it to be activated then it has to be somehow immersed into Hogwarts itself.”

He nodded. “That makes sense but there has to be something that senses the power of the enmity between the houses.”

Both of them sat and thought about this for a long while. How would the curse know when to activate itself? It would have to be able to sense that the situation between any of the Hogwarts houses was at breaking point. 

“You don’t think that it could have picked up on it from the Great Battle, do you? Hogwarts was under attack. Voldemort was from Slytherin and Harry was a Gryffindor,” Hermione asked.

Bill shook his head. “That would be the obvious marker but you’re overlooking one thing: it wasn’t just Gryffindor and Slytherin fighting, it was the whole of Hogwarts, indeed the whole of the wizarding world. Fault lines also weren’t drawn down Slytherin and Gryffindor divisions. You had Snape fighting for the Order and Pettigrew fighting for Voldemort and they weren’t the only ones who were on unnatural sides.”

Her shoulders slumped. She had hoped that it would be something they could pinpoint easily but she guessed it wasn’t to be. Bill was right: it would be too imprecise and Voldemort had managed to amass an impressive amount of followers from outside of the house of Slytherin.

The pair of them threw theories back and forth for a few more hours before Fleur returned and made them clear the kitchen table of all their notes. She forced Hermione to stay for lunch and the three of them had a cosy time, catching up and gossiping about everything. The kids were with Molly who had Teddy and Andromeda over for the day at the Burrow.

“So what are you doing tomorrow, Hermione?” Bill asked. “Got time to go over more of this stuff?”

She was about to agree when she remembered that she’d promised Ginny she would help her on a shopping trip to Hogsmeade. Ginny didn’t get as much time as she wanted during the season and she liked to make the most of her days off. 

“I promised Ginny I would help her find some dress robes for Ministry Christmas Party,” she said.

Bill started laughing. “Good luck with that one. Are you actually planning on attending this year? It always makes me laugh that my sister, who isn’t employed by the Ministry turns up and you, who went to work there straight after getting your N.E.W.T.s, never attends.”

“You know how I hate things like that, Bill. It’s all pretentious lobbying and I have no patience for it.”

“You could just go to enjoy the food and dancing like Ginny does,” Fleur pointed out.

“I could, but I won’t get away with that. I’ll have some annoying person come up to lambast me about how unfair the latest bill on house-elves is,” Hermione said bitterly. “No, I’ll be much happier pretending that it’s the same day as my parents annual Christmas party like I do every year. It really does pay to have Muggle parents at times.”

Fleur and Bill looked at her in exasperation.

\------------

Ginny had arranged to meet Hermione at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade at noon. They enjoyed a coffee before hitting the high street. Ginny pretty much dragged Hermione to Hogsmeade’s one robe shop - Gladrags Wizardwear.

“Why didn’t we go to Diagon Alley if you are determined to look at every single style ever made?” Hermione asked. “There’s much more choice there.”

“You know how much I hate all the attention. People who want autographs and pictures always bog me down. It severely cuts into my shopping time. The great thing about Hogsmeade is that most people still see me as Ginny Weasley, Hogwarts student.”

“Yeah, I guess. I think I’m just used to the craziness of Diagon Alley.”

“It’s still not as bad as that terrible street you dragged me down that one Saturday. What was it called, Oxbridge Road?”

“Oxford Street, and yes, it was a mistake to ever set foot there on a weekend.”

Ginny shuddered and Hermione couldn’t help but smile as she remembered Ginny’s astonishment at the crowds of people and the inability to get anywhere without seemingly stepping all over some stranger. 

Hermione browsed through the various different sections dedicated to witches. She was absent-mindedly holding a dress up against herself in the mirror when she saw an impossibly blond head appear over her shoulder.

“That colour looks good on you, Kitten, although I didn’t think you’d be one for green. Isn’t it a bit too Slytherin for your tastes?”

“Ha ha, Malfoy, I’m just waiting for Ginny. What are you doing lurking around staring at women in clothes shops? It’s a bit perverted - even for you.”

He narrowed his eyes at her but apparently decided to answer the question rather than insult her back. “I’m waiting for Blaise. He’s currently following Ginny around like a lost puppy. I saw you and the temptation to come and bug you was irresistible.”

She looked up to see Ginny marching over to her with Zabini in tow. “I can’t do anything with _him_ following me around making comments about _everything_ ,” Ginny exclaimed. 

Zabini just smirked. “I was helping, sweetheart.”

“No you weren’t. You were being annoying and insisting that I pick something in Slytherin green. Malfoy, I demand that you take your friend away now before I’m forced to do something drastic,” Ginny threatened.

“Only if you both meet us afterwards for something to eat,” Malfoy bargained.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Yes, we’ll do that. Now disappear!”

Zabini blew his irritated fiancée a kiss whilst Malfoy just winked at Hermione and said, “See you later, Kitten.”

Hermione glared at him but turned back to her redheaded friend who was frantically searching the rails once more. “Men,” Ginny uttered.

“I can’t believe we have to have lunch with them,” Hermione groaned.

“I thought you said you would find being around Malfoy easier now,” Ginny said uneasily.

She looked at her friend suspiciously. “I am, I think, but it doesn’t mean I want to spend today having lunch with him.”

“But you said that the pair of you had agreed to put the past behind you and start again?”

“Well yes. It’s not necessarily that, although he is being especially provoking today, but I was looking forward to spending some quality time with you.”

“Oh,” was all Ginny said.

Hermione definitely suspected something now. “Ginny Weasley, you arranged to meet Zabini today and told him to bring Malfoy along, didn’t you?!” 

Ginny at least had the shame to blush. “Well, I don’t get to see Blaise very much and the fact that you said last Sunday went well and then told me about the conversation on Monday, I assumed you wouldn’t mind us having lunch together.”

Hermione didn’t have the heart to yell at her friend, especially as Ginny really did like Zabini and due to the competitive nature of her job, she was often immersed in secretive training camps where she wasn’t allowed visitors. “I guess its fine. But if Malfoy keeps calling me Kitten, I’m going to leave.”

Ginny giggled. “I think it’s a cute nickname.”

“You would but you also thought those bloody Pygmy Puffs were adorable when you were fifteen.”

“Stop moaning, you miserable woman. It could be worse; he could still call you all the mean nicknames he did back at Hogwarts. At least Kitten is sweet.”

Hermione said nothing and just held out a stylish black dress she’d just unearthed for Ginny’s inspection.

\--------

George and Pansy settled down for lunch at the Three Broomsticks. George was scouting the area to look for possible vacant shops to open up a second branch of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and had brought Pansy along with him as she had a surprising hard-head on her shoulders and could barter the most unpromising people down to a better price.

“That place opposite Zonko’s was perfect but it’s opposite _Zonko’s_ ,” George said.

“Yes,” Pansy mused. “But that could work in your favour. Anyone leaving there is then likely to come and visit you.”

“Yeah, but having your greatest competitor that close is meant to be bad for business. That’s what all the manuals say.”

“Since when have you listened to anyone else’s rules? If it feels right for you, then go with your gut instinct. It’s what got you this far.”

George looked across the small table at her and smiled. “You’re right, Parkinson. I like the way you think.”

Pansy smiled at him and shook her head. “Oh, and you should think of opening a shop up in the village close to Durmstrang too. The kids there are wild over your products. I bet Beauxbaton brats are too.”

“Hmm… an empire of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. I could get aboard with that. You think big, Pans.”

“Well, I am a Slytherin,” she said with a wink.

“She’s right,” a voice drawled from behind George.

Pansy looked up and saw Blaise and Draco. “What are you two doing here?” she asked with a grin.

“We had the same idea as you. Getting lunch with our Gryffindors. If they ever leave the clothes shop that is,” Blaise replied.

George smiled at his soon to be brother-in-law. “Getting Ginny away from new robes is a task not even Voldemort could achieve.”

“Tell me about it. I got sent away for not taking the task seriously enough,” Blaise complained. “Your plans for expansion sound good. You need to be successful because I can only cope with one dead-beat brother-in-law.”

“Ah Ronniekins. I think Fred dropped him on his head when he was a baby,” George said.

Blaise laughed. “I was thinking of Percy, not the Weasel, but now you mention it...”

“Poor Ron, I don’t know why he puts up with you all,” Pansy said.

Blaise and Draco dragged the nearest table over and merged it with the already occupied one.

“Really? You’re going to just gate-crash my date like that?” George asked.

“Get used to it. We need to make sure you treat our girl right,” Draco replied.

“I thought you Slytherins were meant to be cold, cruel, friendless creeps.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Granger,” Draco said.

George shrugged. “Probably.”

“Hey, I resent that. I’ve been trying really hard, too,” Hermione complained, walking up to the table where she collapsed in the nearest empty chair, which happened to be next to Malfoy.

“Where’s Ginny?” Blaise asked.

“I left her paying for her new dress. I thought if I escaped when she wasn’t paying attention I might actually get to eat something.” 

Ginny walked into the pub then, carrying a couple of bags. “You’re a crappy friend, Hermione,” she called out.

“I thought I was going to _die_ in there,” Hermione said dramatically.

“I’ll remember that next time you drag me to Flourish and Blotts and keep me prisoner in there for a whole day. ‘Oh Ginny, look, Libatius Borage has a new potions book out. Do you think it will be better than Arsenius Jigger’s latest textbook?’”

Hermione just stuck her tongue out. 

Both Blaise and Draco’s ears had perked up at the talk of potions. “So what did you think of Borage’s latest offering?” Blaise asked.

Ginny threw her hands up in the air. “No, I refuse to allow any discussion of potions around this table. It just makes me think of sitting in Snape’s dungeon, suffering through all his lessons.”

All three potion fanatics pouted.

“Fine,” Hermione said. “But that means I ban any talk of Quidditch.”

Pansy jumped in. “I veto any discussion of evil Slytherins,” she said with a cheeky smile at Hermione, who flushed a little.

“We’re not allowed to dissect any new house-elf legislation either, then,” George added.

“And there will be no talk of ferrets,” Draco said and everyone laughed.

“Damn, that’s my whole conversation repertoire gone out the window,” Hermione said, pretending to sulk.

\---------

When Minerva McGonagall entered the Three Broomsticks a few hours later, she had to look twice as her eyes wandered over to the noisy table that was currently rocking with laughter. Was that really a mixed table of former Gryffindor and Slytherin students? Her eyes got even bigger when she caught sight of Hermione Granger sitting there.

After Hermione’s performance last month at the Ministry, Minerva didn’t have too much hope that there would be a marriage between her and Draco Malfoy. She had tried her hardest to point out some of the former Slytherin’s redeeming features to Hermione the next day but she wasn’t sure how much her former pupil took on board. But seemingly there had been a massive change in the past couple of weeks because here was the woman - who’d previously been unable to interact with a Slytherin without either hexing or shouting at them - sitting down looking like she was having the time of her life. And Draco was there next to her as if it wasn’t at all unusual. 

Shock aside, it was pretty fortunate that there should be some of the students affected by the curse sitting in front of her. Minerva was in the process of duplicating and sending out letters to each individual affected. They appeared to be running out of time with the curse. Rowena Ravenclaw had visited Minerva earlier in the week and had informed her that unless the marriages took place before the end of this academic year, Hogwarts would shut for good. 

In theory, that gave them a good seven months, which was nothing to panic about but in organising a good few weddings, it was. Most people took on average about a year to plan their weddings and there were limited officials who could perform the vows. So it would need an intense amount of juggling of dates and good organisational skills to make sure that everyone got married in time. 

She made her way over to the loud table. “Well, it’s nice to see that my ex-students have managed to leave school rivalries behind,” she greeted them.

Hermione blushed as she looked up at the Hogwarts Headmistress. She was still embarrassed by her behaviour at the Ministry meeting in front of a woman she had ultimate respect for. Malfoy shot her an amused glance so she kicked his ankle under the table and smirked as he jolted with pain.

“Why don’t you join us, Prof… er… Minerva,” Hermione asked.

Minerva smiled. “I’d like that and I also have some news for you all regarding the curse so this saves me some time.”

Hermione’s ears pricked up at this and table became a lot more sombre. No matter how much better they got along now, no one liked the idea of being forced to marry due to a curse.

“It’s not the best news,” the Professor continued. “Rowena Ravenclaw contacted me once more through a dream. She told me that Hogwarts has until the end of this academic year for all the marriages to take place.”

Hermione felt like a vice was squeezing her around the chest. She could barely breathe it felt so tight.

“We have until mid-June?” Pansy asked squeakily. 

Hermione looked around the table and noticed that everyone looked as panicky as she felt. Her gaze rested last on Malfoy who was looking at her with concern. 

“Is there no way to delay this?” Malfoy asked.

Minerva grimaced. “Unfortunately, no. We’ve already put this off for as long as we could. I am sorry to ruin your Sunday like this,” she said before standing. She looked down at her former pupils. “There’s going to be a meeting at Hogwarts next Saturday, starting at ten o’clock in the morning.” 

The table stayed silent for a good few minutes whilst they digested this unwelcome information. 

“I kind of just thought this was one big joke and we wouldn’t actually have to go through with it,” George said. 

“You’re telling me,” Zabini muttered. 

Hermione just looked crestfallen. 

“Please tell me you’re getting somewhere on lifting the curse, Hermione,” Pansy said.

She looked at the Slytherin girl in surprise. She didn’t really imagine that anyone else would be as invested as she was in breaking it. “I saw Bill Weasley yesterday. We’ve started to work through the journals and put some theories together but we haven’t really got anywhere yet.”

“Maybe it would be an idea to widen those working on breaking the curse,” Malfoy suggested.

Ginny nodded enthusiastically. “I think we’re all agreed that none of us want to be forced into a marriage no matter how well we think of our matches.”

Hermione thought about it. It would be stupid to insist that only she and Bill work on the curse. They could cover so much more ground if they had a group of people working on it. She also wasn’t blind to the fact that she was sitting with a talented bunch of wizards who had gone through a lot more than previous generations had at a young age. 

“I think that’s a really good idea, Malfoy,” she responded. “We could get a lot more achieved and we all have talents and skills in different areas so we pretty much will end up with everything covered.”

“How about we arrange to sit down next week after the meeting at Hogwarts?” Pansy suggested. “We’ll all be in the same area so it would be stupid not to take advantage of that.”

“That sounds like a good plan. I’ll check with Bill to see if he’s free next Saturday afternoon,” Hermione agreed.

The group didn’t feel like hanging around trying to regain the free and easy atmosphere that had existed before Minerva McGonagall had come into the Three Broomsticks. They all went their separate ways, trying to remain optimistic that they could break the curse and decide if and when they wanted to get married.


	16. Chapter 16

Hermione linked her arms with Harry and Ron as they walked up to Hogwarts castle. She smiled as she saw all the current students milling around, enjoying their weekend. She felt as if time had almost turned back and they were pupils once more at Hogwarts. She did miss the place. Despite the fact that a war had waged on in the background, she’d loved her time at the castle.

“It feels strange coming back,” Ron commented.

“I wonder if Minerva will let us have a look round,” Harry said.

“Sssh, don’t say that or we’ll never get Hermione to leave the library again,” Ron said jokingly.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. “Minerva has already told me that I’m always welcome to visit the library, anyway,” she replied.

“I hope we can go and visit the Gryffindor common room,” Harry continued. “I miss that place.”

Ron and Hermione nodded and the three of them thought nostalgically about all the fun they’d had in Gryffindor Tower.

“Well, well, if it’s not Potty, Weasel and the Bookworm,” drawled a voice behind them.

The trio spun around and rolled their eyes as they saw Malfoy, flanked this time by Zabini and Parkinson.

“Ha ha, Draco,” Harry said.

Malfoy grinned at them. “I couldn’t resist. It doesn’t feel like Hogwarts if I’m not making some snide comment at you three.”

Daphne barrelled her way through the three Slytherins and leapt on Harry, smothering him in kisses.

“Daphne, please can you try and uphold the Slytherin name a little more. It’s not befitting for you to fawn all over Golden Boy like that and we’re getting strange looks from all the brats,” Malfoy said.

Daphne turned to face her blond friend. “I don’t care. I’ve waited years to be able to do things like that and I’m not going to stop now because you can’t stomach it.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about; I’m used to your rather nauseating displays of affection for Potter but you just traumatised those poor Slytherins over there.”

They all turned to look towards where Malfoy was gesturing and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at the group of Slytherin sixth-years whose faces almost matched their green ties. 

“I don’t think they’re going to recover from seeing the great Slytherin Prince cavorting with Gryffindors,” Ron said teasingly.

Malfoy grimaced. “Please, what kind of ridiculous nickname is that?”

“No worse than Kitten,” Hermione interjected.

“Don’t make me start calling you the Gryffindor Golden Girl.”

It was Hermione’s turn to pull a face. “Okay, I admit they are horrible nicknames and stupid ones at that.”

“Good, so no more calling me something so hideous.”

“Back to Ferret it is,” Ron said with a wicked grin.

They all looked up to main entrance as Hagrid’s booming voice drifted over the grounds, calling them over. “Get in ‘ere, you lot. Professor McGonagall’s ready to start.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione broke into massive grins and they regressed in age, sprinting over to give Hagrid a big hug. The Slytherins smirked at them as they passed. Hagrid caught sight of Malfoy and turned to her. “Tha’ git isn’t givin’ yeh any trouble, is he?” 

She smiled at the overprotective half-giant. “Don’t worry, Hagrid, if he gets too out of line, I can always smack him again.”

“Tha’s my girl, ‘Ermione,” Hagrid said squeezing her until she practically couldn’t breathe any more. “Anyway, yeh better get yehselves in there so Professor McGonagall can start.”

Hermione, Harry and Ron definitely felt that they were back at Hogwarts when they walked into the Great Hall late and were on the receiving end of one of McGonagall’s very unimpressed stares. It brought back too many memories of Transfiguration lessons. All three of them ducked their heads and automatically turned towards the Gryffindor table. They sat together and Hermione shook her head slightly as she realised that she had almost the same view of Malfoy that she had had for six years. The only difference was that instead of glares and sneers, he had a cheeky smile on his face and winked at her when she raised her eyebrows in query. She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. She had to stop herself from giggling when he mouthed “very mature” back at her.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and looked down at her former students. “I am truly sorry to bring you back here to Hogwarts in such horrible circumstances. However, I’m sad to say that I have to inform you that your need to marry those chosen by the Sorting Hat has become imperative.”

There was lots of muffled annoyed murmuring at this and some not-so-friendly glares up at the Headmistress. No one appreciated being the generation that had triggered the curse and had their choice in partner taken away. There were also some snide comments about Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and they mainly originated from the Slytherin table. Hermione found herself thinking that she’d wished the Sorting Hat had decided to place her in Ravenclaw instead. 

McGonagall raised her hand for silence once more. “Yes, I know it is all very unpleasant but if you would please quiet down then I can continue. As I was saying, the marriages that need to take place in order for Hogwarts to survive now have a time limit. I was informed by Rowena Ravenclaw in a dream last week that all marriages will have to be completed by the time Hogwarts closes for this academic year.”

\----------

Minerva gave the room time to fully take in that information. The shocked gasps informed her that it wasn’t completely welcome news. Not that she blamed them. She was also worried as she wasn’t sure that everyone would actually go through with the marriages and here her eyes rested involuntarily on Hermione Granger. The majority of people had been fairly pliable when it came to those chosen as their intended spouses. She’d also been pleased that some couples who’d initially given her a headache had resolved their differences - George Weasley and Pansy Parkinson springing to mind.

But she had no idea which way Hermione was yet to go. Her former student no longer seemed to have the deep seated antipathy towards Draco Malfoy that she’d had at last month’s meeting, but that didn’t mean that she still wasn’t prepared to consign Hogwarts to the scrap heap of history. The one thing that made Minerva hopeful in this case was the fact that Hermione loved Hogwarts and would hate to see it closed and sealed off to future generations. She’d probably go into deep mourning for the loss of the library as well. 

The Headmistress was also unsure of where Draco’s mind lay. He had been matched with a Muggle-born and although he’d thoroughly reformed himself after the end of the war, it didn’t mean that he would necessarily want the very pure-blood line of Malfoy to end. Minerva had already resigned herself to the fact that she would need to speak to them both privately to fully gauge what they were thinking. She just wished she didn’t have this headache at all. The worry and stress of it all was giving her sleepless nights and it wasn’t about to abate at any time. She sighed as she signalled the hall for silence once more.

“Now, I know that this doesn’t give much time for you to even get to know your chosen partners or indeed even plan the dream wedding that some of you may have been wishing for, for a long time.”

\--------

Draco shot Pansy a knowing look at that. The girl had pretty much roped him into playing ‘bride and groom’ since she was old enough to pretend walk down an aisle. She’d had her bridesmaid dresses picked out - style and colour - by the time she was thirteen and narrowed the venue she wished for her ‘perfect’ wedding by fifteen. On the one hand, having such concrete plans probably meant that she didn’t need months and months to decide on everything but it did mean that if one thing wasn’t available in the time-span they’d be given by Ravenclaw, her whole dream wedding would be thrown into disarray.

McGonagall continued to drone on and Draco remembered how dull all these speeches before and after feasts had been when they’d attended Hogwarts. At least she was straight and to the point, unlike the whacky speeches that Dumbledore had come out with. 

“I know some of you may not have even decided if you want to proceed with the Ministry plan. However, before you definitively decide against marrying the person you’ve been paired with, I’d like you to come and talk to me. In refusing to marry, you will be affecting the whole of the wizarding world here in the UK. A new school to teach underage witches and wizards would have to be found and set up which would take a long time and possibly mean that a younger generation would miss out on a well-rounded and good education. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons would not be able to house all the extra students.”

Draco sneered slightly at the emotional blackmail McGonagall was laying on them all. It was a typical Gryffindor tactic; look to appeal to the better nature of everyone there and hope they fall in with the plan for the ‘greater good’ of future generations. Not too many Slytherins would be swayed by such an argument, although the loss of the tradition of Hogwarts would be a blow to their mindset. But Draco knew whom McGonagall was mainly aiming that speech at and he looked towards Granger to see her reaction. Predictably she was biting her lip and looking conflicted. He knew that it went completely against her character to bow to such distasteful dictates but then again, to allow Hogwarts to close would be unthinkable. It was her first taste of the magical world and he knew that both she and Potter were hugely attached to the place for that very reason. 

“Before you all file out, please could Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy come to talk to me,” McGonagall finished off.

Draco scowled at the immense interest the rest of the hall suddenly showed him and Granger. He quickly smoothed his face into an unreadable mask, not wanting anyone to be able to decipher his feelings on having so many pairs of eyes staring at him. He flashed a quick glance to Granger and saw that she was hiding it less well; she was bright red and anxiously trying to ignore the nosy people currently staring at them.

\------------

They quickly made their way to McGonagall who lead them up to her office. Neither looked around Hogwarts, reliving any memories - they were both too concerned about what McGonagall wanted to say to them.

“Sorry to single you both out like that but I wanted to make sure I got an opportunity to speak to you both before you disappeared. I know that this decision is probably the hardest on you two and I wanted to make sure that you know that you can talk out anything you want with me. Unlike the Ministry, I didn’t feel the need to impose you sitting with your matched partner,” McGonagall said with an amused look at Hermione, who flushed bright red.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Yes, well it would have been strange here. I mean, one of us would have had to have sat at the other’s house table.”

“You,” said Malfoy, interrupting her.

She just glared at the annoying blond who smirked back at her.

“Anyway, I was wondering where the two of you currently were with your decision. It was a pleasant surprise to see you both at the Three Broomsticks last Sunday and I’m hoping that it means there has been some progress made.”

Hermione was deeply uncomfortable with this whole conversation. It felt weird and her change of feelings towards Malfoy was still too new to really put into words. She might not hate him like she had previously but she wasn’t sure that she wanted to marry him. He could still drive her mad. 

“I… er… guess we’re getting to know each other,” she mumbled.

McGonagall smiled in relief. “Well that’s a good thing. I’m very pleased that you can at least be in the same room as each other now for a prolonged period of time. And you, Mr. Malfoy? This decision will have consequences not just for you but for your family line.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at McGonagall’s question. “I assure you that the Malfoy thinking on the question of blood has changed significantly. As I am the only Malfoy left in existence, the route the family takes is my own decision to make. Pure-blood families are dying out through the incessant inter-marrying, so I was in all likelihood going to have to look outside of pure-blood witches anyway.”

Hermione tried not to laugh at how stiff and pompous Malfoy sounded. She knew he couldn’t help it; McGonagall was asking very personal questions and it was hard to answer them without seizing up. It was also disconcerting to have the attention of so many previous Heads of Hogwarts, who weren’t even trying to hide their interest in the whole conversation. Hermione couldn’t help but notice that Phineas Nigellus Black, was glaring down at his relative, sneering at his dissection of the state of pure-blood families. 

“So do you think you will both decide to marry each other, then?” McGonagall pushed in a way that was incredibly alien to her. Hermione realised that having the curse hanging over the Headmistress’ head must be causing her a lot of stress.

“Uh… well, we haven’t really talked about it,” she jumped in before Malfoy could come out with whatever sarcastic and cutting remark was currently in his mouth. She could tell by his facial expression that it wouldn’t be nice. “I’m also still hoping that I can come up with a solution to break the curse. Bill Weasley and I have been working on it.”

Gloom descended over McGonagall’s face. “Oh! Well, of course that’s good news,” she said in a tone that implied the complete opposite. 

She couldn’t leave the Headmistress feeling quite so pessimistic about the whole situation. “But I’m sure that if nothing is found then Malfoy and I will look to save Hogwarts,” she said in rush before the reality of the words could hit her.

McGonagall looked up and beamed at her. Hermione really didn’t want to look at Malfoy, who, she was sure, was probably giving her that look that he usually reserved for specimens he found morbidly interesting. However, her eyes didn’t seem to get the message from her brain and found themselves glancing his way. He was looking at her in some surprise but with a gleam in his eyes that she found a little disconcerting. She couldn’t work out what it meant.

McGonagall seemed to rediscover her usual composure and briskly thanked the pair before showing them out. Hermione now found herself left somewhat awkwardly with Malfoy in the corridor outside the office. She had no idea where Ron and Harry were and Ginny would be off somewhere with Blaise. 

“So, that was… er… a little intense,” she said, needing to break the silence.

Malfoy just gave her that look again but failed to respond verbally. 

“Well, I guess I’ll go and find Harry and Ron, then. They’re probably in the Gryffindor common room,” she said, wanting to get away from the tension in the air.

“I don’t think you’ll find them there,” he said with a nod towards the window. She looked out and saw two very familiar figures flying about down at the Quidditch pitch. It looked as if they had the latest Gryffindor Quidditch team fawning all over them. 

Hermione pouted somewhat. “Oh!” she said huffily. “I guess I’ll go to the library, then.” 

Before she could stalk off, a little put out at the direction McGonagall’s conversation had gone, Malfoy’s strange reaction and annoyance towards Ron and Harry for running off to do things she couldn’t take part in, Malfoy grabbed her hand. 

“Why don’t we spend some of that time you were talking about together? I’ll show you my favourite Hogwarts haunts if you show me yours?” he suggested with a mischievous smile. 

She felt some of her composure come back. She’d make Malfoy as deeply uncomfortable by making him view the Gryffindor common room. That was sure to shake his nonchalant façade. 

“Okay, that sounds like fun. As we’re already up here, I’ll go first,” she said before dragging him off by the hand to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

\--------

Malfoy scowled at Hermione as she giggled once more. “That was not funny,” he growled at her.

“It was,” she said, gasping as the giggles escaped again. 

“I thought you Gryffindors were meant to be a nice, welcoming, inclusive lot,” he moaned.

“Yes, but that doesn’t extend to ex-Slytherins and Malfoys,” she replied.

“Those third-years are lucky that I’m a grown man and above smacking them around their nasty little heads.”

She couldn’t help but laugh again. She had wanted to discompose Malfoy but hadn’t planned on a bunch of third-years who felt the need to defend their famous war hero and a bunch of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes products. 

“You’re just lucky I knew the counter-spell to that particular product. George tested that out on us all for months until I got so fed up of turning all different colours, I found a counter-spell for it,” she said.

“Yeah, well I’ll be having words with Pansy about this. It’s blatant house discrimination to have colours of all the other houses except Slytherin. When she sorts it out, those third-years will be getting a horrible surprise and it’ll be green and silver and hissing.”

She dissolved into giggles once more as she treasured the memory of Malfoy coloured in red and gold strips, roaring like a lion with the Gryffindor emblem temporarily tattooed on each cheek. She couldn’t wait to tell Ron and Harry and congratulate George. The pain she’d suffered whilst he’d been creating that product was worth it now she’d seen Malfoy looking like ‘Mr. Gryffindor’.

“I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you since you’re descending into a den of snakes now,” he smugly remarked.

She rolled her eyes. She wasn’t scared of a bunch of teenage Slytherins and, besides, she knew that Malfoy wouldn’t let anything truly terrible happen to her. She was however curious to see the Slytherin dungeon. Harry and Ron had of course described it back in their second year but she wanted to see it for herself. She’d never admit this to anyone but herself, and then only barely, but she also wanted to see where Malfoy had spent six-and-a-half-years of his life. 

They went down into the dank dungeons and Hermione shivered somewhat. It was a depressing place to be based but she couldn’t imagine the Slytherins being happy somewhere more cheerful and warmer. They would find it annoyingly twee. Malfoy led them through the tunnel-like passages until they were outside a stone wall. He’d bullied a passing Slytherin earlier into giving him the password. A doorway appeared and they entered a long, low room decorated with ornate carved chairs and an exquisite mantelpiece with a brightly burning fire – the only cheery colour in the room. There were several hanging lamps that burned with a greenish hue but apart from that it was as dark as Harry had said it was. However, instead of finding it depressing, she found it dreamy in an eerie way. It was almost as if she’d stumbled into a great hall of the Merpeople out in the lake. She gazed around, taking in all the details before turning back to Malfoy who was watching her intently.

“So? What do you think? You probably think it’s all dank and miserable,” he said.

Hermione smiled at his defensive tone. For all the nasty words they gave out, Slytherins happened to be sensitive souls who didn’t do well when criticised. They always took it to heart. “I like it, in a strange way. It feels as if it belongs underwater or in a fairy tale. Harry and Ron certainly didn’t do it justice.”

Malfoy looked at her with a puzzled expression. “Potter and Weasley? I’ve never brought them down here.”

She swore under her breath. “Oh yeah… er… I think Daphne took them.”

“Nice try, Granger. I take it they snuck in here at some point during our time at Hogwarts probably using that invisibility cloak. Come on, spit it out.”

She debated briefly over whether to crow and tell Malfoy how they’d tricked him in their second year. He’d give Harry and Ron hell but it was about time someone else found out about the secrets that sneaky pair kept. “Okay, they got in when we were all at Hogwarts but they didn’t sneak in, they walked in brazenly with you by their side.”

He did a double take and looked at her incredulously. “Huh? What do you mean they walked in with me?”

She couldn’t help but smirk. “We brewed Polyjuice Potion during the Christmas holidays of our second year. Ron and Harry snagged a hair from Crabbe and Goyle and had a nice chat with you about the Chamber of Secrets here in this room.”

Malfoy was actually speechless. His mouth was hanging open and his eyes hadn’t moved from her face. He was just staring at her in disbelief. 

“You charmingly said that you hoped that I would be killed by the basilisk,” she said, unable to stop herself from adding that small detail.

He gulped before looking guiltily at the floor. “Yes, well I was an immature little prat back then. I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about. I just parroted my father.”

She patted him on the arm. “It’s okay, Malfoy, I think I can forgive you for some nasty words back when you were twelve.”

He looked down gratefully at her. He then managed to digest the rest of what she had said. “They came down here at Christmas, you say?” 

Hermione just nodded. 

“Those bastards! I told them about the hidden room under the drawing room floor at Malfoy Manor. We got bloody raided by the Ministry looking for it a few weeks later. Luckily, we had strong enchantments all around it which meant that the Ministry couldn’t find anything.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath for Harry and Ron to feel guilty. You did say you were hiding valuable dark arts objects in the room.”

“That’s not the point,” he insisted stubbornly.

“Actually it… Never mind. Are we going to stand around arguing about this all day? And why is the common room deserted? It’s just freaky. Do you Slytherins really burrow under the ground?” she asked, looking to change the subject.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We are human. They all must be out doing Slytherin things. Beating up some Hufflepuffs or something.”

She rolled her eyes at that. Typical bloody Slytherins. Some things never changed. 

“So, now that we have the place all to ourselves, Kitten, fancy checking out my old room?” he asked teasingly with a lecherous look. 

She looked at him with contempt. “Don’t be disgusting, Malfoy. The thought of having to get that close to you makes me want to vomit. But I am curious about your room. I want to see the place where you plotted evil deeds.”

“Yeah, yeah keep telling yourself that. You just want to see where I slept. If you’re a good girl, I may even let you lie down on my old bed.”

“It’d probably need disinfecting first.”

By that time, they’d climbed the stairs, which led up the dormitories. They went a short way along the passageway that made up the boys’ chambers before Malfoy opened a door, which led into a smaller version of the common room. The hanging lamps with the greenish glow were present, as were a couple of carved chairs. The four-poster beds weren’t the cosy version from the Gryffindor bedrooms but were carved from dark wood and had snakes spiralling up the posts. It wasn’t this that made her stop in shock, though - it was writhing mass of duvet on one of the beds with long red hair spilling out over one of the pillows.

“Oh, my eyes!” Hermione yelled, covering them. “Ginerva Weasley, what on earth are you doing?!” 

A screech came from the bed along with a deep voice cursing.

Malfoy, who was standing next to her sniggering, answered, “I think that’s pretty obvious, Granger.”

“Draco, take your eyes away from my girlfriend and take Granger outside,” Zabini ordered.

“Come with me, Kitten. It appears we were beaten to it.”

Hermione walked back the Slytherin common room, trying to consign several recently acquired memories to the deep, dark recesses of her brain where she’d never have to see them again. Sadly, the images refused to disappear.

“I guess that answers your question as to why the common room was empty,” Malfoy mused from beside her.

“How can you be so calm about this? We just walked in on our two close friends, you know… doing the deed.”

He laughed outright at her. “You know you can say the word, right? It’s called sex. I’m sure you haven’t gone your full twenty-five years without at least reading about it.”

“Stop mocking me. I’m traumatised here,” she said, stamping her foot. 

“How the hell did you manage to have two boys as your best friends and yet you manage to get so embarrassed by the subject?”

“Just because they’re boys doesn’t mean they talk about it 24/7.”

“Oh yes, I forgot it was Potter and Weasley we were talking about. Potter could barely even ask Daphne out and Weasley’s not much better when it comes to women.”

She was saved having to defend her friends by the appearance of the guilty couple. Ginny was looking pretty sheepish and was struggling to meet her eyes. Hermione, in turn, was finding the mantelpiece fascinating. Zabini and Malfoy were eying the two embarrassed girls in complete amusement. 

“Want to find Potter and Weasley?” Zabini suggested.

Hermione and Ginny jumped at the opportunity to leave the awkward atmosphere behind in the Slytherin common room. Neither spoke to each other until they were halfway to the Quidditch pitch. 

“I’m so embarrassed,” Ginny moaned. “Blaise swore that he’d bribed the little snakes to go out. I didn’t imagine that you and Malfoy would walk in.”

“Yeah, well the common room was deserted,” Hermione said, a little lost to know what else to say. 

“You must think I’m so depraved now.”

“Of course I don’t. You and Zabini are dating and you’re going to be getting married before June, unless we can break this curse. It’s natural that you’d want to check that you’re compatible. I just wish I hadn’t seen it. One question though - why the Slytherin dormitory?”

Ginny flamed as red as her hair. “Tell anyone this and I’ll personally kill you just using the Bat Bogey Hex. No, I take that back, tell anyone about this and I’ll tell everyone about your infatuation with Malfoy back in our sixth year, including Malfoy. It was kind of a fantasy whilst I was here at Hogwarts. I’d noticed Blaise before I started dating Harry, at the Slug Club, and thought he was fit.”

Hermione glared at her friend. “I had a brief, insane infatuation for Malfoy that was induced by my grief over your brother and Lavender. I didn’t go around making up fantasies about having sex with him in the Slytherin dorms unlike someone else I could name.”

“And that, of course, explains why you were going up to his old dorm in a deserted Slytherin dungeon. You sure you weren’t going to see how compatible the two of you would be? And besides, didn’t you say that you’ve had naughty thoughts about you, Malfoy and the library?”

“I think I preferred it when you were too embarrassed to talk. And as I told him, the thought of that makes me want to vomit.”

Ginny grinned at her. “So you discussed it with Malfoy, huh? That sexy blond getting you all hot and bothered?”

It was Hermione’s turn to blush. “Stop it! Of course he isn’t. I can just about stand to be in the same room as him.”

“Keep telling yourself that, _Kitten_. I bet you jump him before the year is out.”

“Zabini is a disgusting influence on you and you _are_ depraved.”

\-----------

 

Blaise nudged Draco in the side. “What’s that all about?” he asked, pointing to Hermione, who looked worked up.

“Your little redhead is probably filling her in with all the revolting details of your recent activity.”

“You didn’t seem to find it so disgusting earlier when you were leering all over Ginny,” Blaise said.

Draco quirked an eyebrow at Blaise. “I didn’t look at your girlfriend and you know it. The Weaslette has never interested me.”

“Only because you’ve always had your eye on a bushy-haired brunette instead.”

He shrugged. With Hermione actually talking to him, he could no longer be bothered to deny the fact that he was smitten with her. 

“Oho! No denial! Have you finally admitted it to yourself?”

“What’s the point? I know you all know it and the only person who doesn’t know it is Granger and it’ll stay that way.”

“What’s brought this on?” Blaise asked.

“She told McGonagall that if she couldn’t break the curse she’d probably go ahead and marry me. I thought she’d definitely let Hogwarts close. It’s what I’d do if I was in her shoes.”

His friend whistled at that. “Wow, that’s a big admission for her to make. And if you were her you would’ve probably gone on a Slytherin killing spree by now. Granger’s much more compassionate. She might’ve hated us and tried to get us arrested numerous times but at least she didn’t try to murder us.”

Draco acknowledged the truth of this with a nod of his head.

They’d all reached the Quidditch pitch by then and Ginny yelled for Ron and Harry to get back on the ground. They were due to meet Bill at the Hog’s Head in twenty minutes.


	17. Chapter 17

At the Hog’s Head, Draco waited until everyone was sitting down. Luckily for him, Ron, Harry, and George were sitting in a row, heads together, deep in conversation about something. He passed out the rest of the drinks, leaving theirs until last. Then, putting the tray down in front of them, he backhanded them all across their hands.

“Hey, what was that for?” Ron whined.

“That’s for sneaking into the Slytherin common room in our second year and getting Malfoy Manor raided!” 

Ron and Harry looked at each other in bemusement and then shot glares over the table at Hermione. She put her hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t blame me when your little secrets get found out,” she said smugly.

“Oh, so if we’re grassing up all our Hogwarts secrets, maybe Malfoy would be interested as to why you weren’t with us, Hermione, and why you were in the Infirmary for the rest of the Christmas holidays,” Ron said vindictively. 

She narrowed her eyes. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your mouth right now.”

“Weasel, I demand you explain to me right now what you mean by that,” Draco said.

“Well, let’s just say it gives a whole new meaning to your nickname for her,” Ron managed to get out before Hermione leapt across the table, drinks flying, and put both her hands over his mouth to shut him up.

Draco was definitely interested in knowing something that Hermione didn’t want him to know that badly. He eyed Potter, who was shaking with laughter. 

“Don’t you dare, Harry,” Hermione warned.

Harry just laughed even harder. “Let’s just say Hermione transformed into something rather furry instead of Millicent Bulstrode,” Harry said, sliding his chair back out of Hermione’s reach.

No one could ever accuse Draco of being slow. He put the rather obvious clues together. “You turned into a cat, Granger?”

Hermione pretty much growled, which amused him even more. 

“I knew animal transfigurations using Polyjuice Potion were not advised but who expected the effects to last well over a decade?” he teased as she blushed.

“I took a hair from Millicent Bullstrode’s robe which turned out to be cat hair instead of hers,” she said, shamefaced. 

She removed her hands from Ron’s mouth before he suffocated to death, climbed off the table, quickly repaired the damage surrounding them and tried to ride out the snorts of laughter coming from everyone else around the table. 

“I hate you both,” she said to Ron and Harry, who were laughing maniacally at her.

Draco put his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Kitten, it’s good to know that you’re human. Well, apart from the left-over cat DNA.”

She shrugged his arm off and glared at the unrepentant blond.

“I understand the need to hit Ron and Harry but what did I have to do with all this?” George asked.

“Oh, that wasn’t for that incident but for other things,” Draco said vaguely, suddenly realising that he didn’t want everyone to know about the earlier incident in Gryffindor Tower.

Unfortunately for him, Hermione had revenge on her mind. She looked maliciously at him before turning to George. 

“A couple of third-years thought they needed to defend my honour when I took Malfoy to see the Gryffindor common room. They used your Quidditch Fanatical Fancies against him and turned him into a Gryffindor lion for twenty minutes.”

This time it was Draco’s turn to scowl as the table laughed hugely at him. “It’s not funny and, Pansy, I fully expect you do something about this outrageous discrimination - George only caters for fans of three of the Hogwarts Houses, and doesn’t have any Slytherin versions.”

Pansy stopped laughing immediately. “What do you mean by that, George Weasley?” she asked putting her hands on her hips.

“Uh oh, you’re in trouble with the missus now, Georgie-boy, and she’s kind of scary,” Ron teased.

Pansy turned her gimlet stare at the youngest Weasley male, who soon withered under it and muttered to himself before turning away.

“Well, it’s not something I’d looked into making before but I’ll have Slytherin versions on the shelves by the end of this week,” George said, placating Pansy, knowing that this was not an argument he could win.

“You better. I’ll be along to check.”

George gulped as Pansy turned away and Draco smirked at him. Pansy could be truly terrifying when she put her mind to it. Hermione didn’t have that corner down as hers just yet. 

Draco turned to the chuckling Blaise and said threateningly, “I’d stop laughing if I were you. There are still some secrets to be told.”

Ginny turned pale and looked worriedly towards her brothers. Fortunately for the harmony of the table, Bill showed up before any more secrets could be spilled.

“I asked Rosmerta for a private room,” Hermione said, leading them through to the back, where a room with a chalkboard and a large table had been set up. Ron eyed the platter of sandwiches sitting on a side-table with interest.

Hermione noticed this and rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should all help yourself to sandwiches, whilst I get set up.” She knew that it would be easier just to feed Ron’s stomach rather than make him wait. It would lead to fewer interruptions. 

Draco, Harry, and Blaise eyed the bustling witch in alarm. “This isn’t going to be a lesson is it, Potter?” Blaise asked.

Harry shrugged. “Who knows? It is Hermione. She likes to go into detail and she’s very invested in breaking this curse.”

“Who would blame her with this oaf to marry.” Blaise snorted.

“At least she’s agreed to marry me. She’d probably top herself if stuck with you,” Draco replied.

“What?” Harry asked, doing a double take. “When did Hermione agree to marry you?”

“Earlier today in McGonagall’s office. She said that if she couldn’t break the curse, she’d knuckle down and keep Hogwarts open.”

Harry whistled. “Wow, that’s a massive admission for Hermione.”

“Well, McGonagall was pushing her quite a bit. I thought she’d cry when Hermione said she was committed to breaking the curse.”

“Minerva would feel as if she’d let Dumbledore down if she didn’t manage to keep Hogwarts open,” Harry said.

“Did you put some kind of friendship potion in Granger’s tea at Malfoy Manor?” Blaise asked. “She’s been unrecognisable recently.”

“She’s just realised that she can’t resist the overwhelming Malfoy charm,” Draco teased.

“I feel awful. If Ron and I had encouraged her years ago to go and get the help she obviously needed then she would have improved ages ago. Instead, we were too afraid of pushing and lied to her instead,” Harry said guiltily.

Draco looked at Blaise. “Now this is why I don’t like Gryffindors. The guilt trip they are always on is so depressing.”

Before Harry could retaliate about Slytherins, Hermione called the meeting to order.

\----------

“You did a really good job getting everyone together, Hermione,” Bill said a couple of hours later.

She looked around the room and was pretty impressed with how seriously everyone was taking this. Even Theo Nott was here and she was surprised to see that he hid some impressive brains behind that joking demeanour. She was also impressed that she was presiding over a room that held Harry, Ron, Ginny, George, Neville, and Bill from Gryffindor and Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, Daphne, Tracey Davies, and Parkinson from the Slytherin side. At the moment, research was taking place. After filling the room in on what she and Bill had managed to piece together so far, they’d spoken about their skills and had been divided into groups accordingly. She was hoping that having this many people would speed the whole process up.

“Yes, after Minerva told us last week that we were going to have to be married by the end of the academic year, it seemed silly to try and do everything with just the two of us. It’s not only me who isn’t feeling too happy with the whole situation,” Hermione told him.

Bill looked around the room. He was surprised to see that they were all managing to get along so well. He knew that Harry would be okay as he was already in love with Daphne but he hadn’t imagined that his other siblings would fair so well. But then again, Blaise was pretty much made for Ginny and they were smitten with each other. Ron and Tracey seemed relatively fine. They appeared to like each other although not necessarily with romantic feelings. The tall Slytherin witch wasn’t really his brother’s cup of tea but they were trying and at least getting along. As for George and Pansy, well, she was reigniting bits of his personality that had appeared buried along with Fred. He been a lot lighter and his latest Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products were a little less dark. Pansy took an active interest in the shop now she’d had to resign her teaching post and was giving George a different perspective on things. 

But the most intriguing couple by far were Hermione and Malfoy. The deep antagonism had disappeared between them. Malfoy was flirty and teasing towards Hermione, never letting her take things too seriously. She needed an influence like that in her life. She’d been in a dark place for a long time and hidden behind her campaigning but currently had a new lease of life. She laughed a lot more and didn’t jump to offence. The fact that she could sit there with a bunch of Slytherins, researching house-elf magic, was remarkable enough. 

Bill had gone to see Minerva after his meeting with Hermione last week at Shell Cottage. After reading through Rowena Ravenclaw’s diaries, he’d gone to speak to her about the dreams. They had both had an interesting conversation about how beneficial the marriages would be not only to Hogwarts but the wider wizarding community. Minerva was pretty convinced that moving the two houses together would mean that someone like Voldemort would not be able to exploit the Hogwarts sorting system again. Slytherins and Gryffindors would be intricately linked and it would get rid of a lot of the prejudice that still abounded. He couldn’t help but agree with her but still didn’t like the idea of forcing people into marriages. He had a good idea that working together on the curse like this would mean that many of the couples selected would remain together. Harry and Daphne had planned to marry before this already; Daphne had just been extremely patient in waiting for Harry to get the guts up to tell Hermione about her. He was pretty sure Ginny and Blaise wouldn’t be long following them down the aisle either. Other couples were looking solid too. As far as he was concerned, the curse had already done the trick in uniting the two houses.

Bill looked up when Hermione began to wrap up the research session. “Okay, we’ve been at this for a good while now, I thought it might be time for a brain-storming session before arranging to meet another time,” she said.

There was a large amount of rustling as everyone put their quills and parchment away and Hermione summoned the large pile of books towards her and placed them back in her trusted small seeded bag. 

“Harry, did you manage to get anywhere with what could have triggered the curse?” she asked.

Harry looked around his group. They’d struggled with this a lot. Apart from the obvious Great Battle of Hogwarts, there didn’t seem to be anything obvious. Bill had been right in saying that divisions had been blurred and that it wasn’t as easy as Voldemort versus Harry that started it off. It hadn’t been until Neville had started speaking about the Room of Requirement that Harry remembered the whole incident during the Great Battle when he’d been searching for Rowena’s diadem. 

“Well, it was Neville that brought something to my mind, really,” he said a little unsurely.

The Slytherins looked a little staggered at the idea of Neville Longbottom being the one to make any kind of breakthrough. They knew he was brave, he’d proved that during their aborted seventh-year, but he still wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box. Harry looked at Neville to continue the story. Poor Neville, despite being a lot stronger now, he still wasn’t hugely comfortable sitting with so many of his previous enemies and he could never look Malfoy in the face.

“I got to telling Harry about some of the quirks of the Room of Requirement. I spent a lot of our seventh year in there leading the rebellion against the Carrows, and came to know the room well. But if we’re looking into possible places to trigger a curse then I believe that is the place to start. From what I’ve read, the room was deliberately incorporated into the castle by Rowena Ravenclaw and she is the one who designed it to be so specific,” Neville explained.

Many in the room just looked confused as to why this was important but Hermione and Draco both looked towards Harry and uttered “Crabbe!” at the same time.

Ron was looking as confused as everyone else. “What? Why Crabbe?” he asked.

“Really, Ronald, can you not even put this together?” Hermione asked in disbelief.

He just looked at her in confusion. She sighed and shook her head.

“Ron, remember during the Great Battle when the three of us went to look for Ravenclaw’s diadem and Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle tried to stop us?” Harry reminded his best friend.

“Yeah but what’s that got to do with Ravenclaw and the curse? The diadem was destroyed because it was a horcrux.”

“Yes, but we’re looking for things which may have triggered the curse. That confrontation was firmly Gryffindor versus Slytherin, where killing curses were thrown around and Crabbe died,” Harry explained patiently.

Everyone else in the room looked excited at this possible breakthrough.

“That’s a real possibility,” Bill chipped in. “Especially as the room was Ravenclaw’s own legacy to Hogwarts. She could easily have built the curse into the room’s design.”

Hermione started pulling books back out of her bag and flipping through them frantically. “Neville, you work up at the castle, is the room still accessible?”

He shook his head. “It was one of the first things I checked when I started as the Herbology Professor. I have a bit of a soft spot for the place but it no longer exists.” 

Harry’s shoulders visibly slumped. “I never thought of that. So if it no longer exists then how can we break the curse?”

“You’re looking at it in the wrong way,” Malfoy said. “It might not be the room itself but the incident that happened in there.”

“Hmm… no, I don’t think so,” Hermione said. “The room is very important but not in the way we’re looking at it. I think it’s the fact that part of the castle was destroyed by a fight solely between Gryffindors and Slytherins.”

“Yes, but whole sections of the castle were destroyed that night,” Blaise commented.

“True, but we’ve already ruled out the Great Battle being the reason because boundaries were blurred. The war against Voldemort wasn’t just Gryffindor versus Slytherin, it involved all the houses,” Hermione explained.

“I think we’re really onto something here,” Bill said. “This might well be our trigger for the curse. It makes sense and fits the timeline and, as Harry said, someone died, which would be considered as crossing the boundary by Ravenclaw - and most normal people.”

“But that happened when Voldemort opened the Chamber of Secrets when he was student at Hogwarts. Moaning Myrtle was killed by the basilisk,” Ginny mentioned. “Surely that would trigger the curse as well.” 

“No,” Draco said. “Myrtle was that rare thing, a Slytherin Muggle-born.”

There were gasps around the room. People knew they existed but it was such a rarity. 

“It’s one of the reasons why she had such a hard time at Hogwarts.”

Ron sniggered at that. “I forgot she was your girlfriend in sixth-year.”

Half the room laughed at that but Draco just sent Ron a cold glare, which promised retribution later. 

Pansy, feeling the need to defend her friend piped up, “You forget I dated Draco in our sixth year, Ron.”

“Don’t remind me of things like that. It just makes me realise that you had no taste when you were a teenager,” George complained to Pansy.

“At least I didn’t date the bottomless stomach like some people we won’t mention,” Draco sniped, looking pointedly at Hermione.

“Mm… I’d love to have bottomless stomach,” Ron said. “I could just eat all day.”

Harry threw a leftover sandwich at Ron’s head. “He’s insulting you, you numpty.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have a leg to stand on, he practically snogged Moaning Myrtle. That’s just grim.”

“ _He’s so sensitive, people bully him too and he feels lonely and hasn’t got anybody to talk to, he’s not afraid to show his feelings and cry!_ ” Harry mocked, quoting Myrtle back to Draco.

“Ew… Draco, _did_ you actually cheat on Pansy with a ghost?” Blaise asked, looking revolted.

Draco looked ready to throw a chair at the next person who spoke to him regarding Moaning Myrtle. 

Bill cleared his throat and said “As fascinating as this is, can we please get this discussion back on track before one or possibly more of us are murdered?”

Hermione tried not to giggle as Malfoy sat there stony-faced. He was so angry his jaw was practically rigid. She didn’t blame him. Harry and Ron were making fun of the worse period of his life and in front of quite a few others. Bill wasn’t wrong. He did look like he was going to kill someone. 

Bill nudged her to get to her finish up. 

“Anyway, as we were saying, it seems that we might be on to something with Crabbe’s death in the Room of Requirement. I know we all have work this week, but is it possible that you could clear your schedules for next Saturday and we’ll meet here again at the same time?” she asked.

There were nods of agreement. 

“Okay, in the meantime, anything you can think of, just jot it down. We don’t have a huge amount to go on at the moment so anything, no matter how unimportant it may seem, could be relevant.”

There were scrapings of chairs as most people disappeared back to the bar to enjoy the rest of the evening or off home if they had plans elsewhere. Harry grabbed Hermione’s arm so she didn’t leave just yet.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said.

“Okay, shoot.”

“I want to propose to Daphne the proper way. I’ve been carrying this ring around since just after we received the letters from the Ministry but I’m not sure how to go about it,” he said sheepishly.

She suppressed a smile. Poor Harry, he really was useless when it came to girls. He got himself in such a panic that he’d do or say something wrong. It was pretty sweet that the saviour of the wizarding world was so shy socially. Everyone always expected him to be outgoing and loud but he was so much happier out of the limelight.

“Why don’t you just do something simple,” she suggested knowing that something elaborate would just go wrong with Harry so nervous about it all.

“Like what?” he asked uselessly.

“What about that new restaurant that has opened up in wizarding Rome? The Daily Prophet had an article about it. It’s meant to be nigh on impossible to get a reservation, and it’s very romantic and intimate.”

“How am I meant to get a reservation if it’s that hard?” He panicked.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Really, Harry, you’re actually seriously asking me that question? You use your name. I doubt they’d refuse a table to _the_ Harry Potter.”

“Oh,” he said. “I really hate having to do things like that.”

“I know, but if you want to propose properly without messing it up, then this is probably the best way.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Oh, by the way, what was that with Malfoy earlier?” she asked.

“The Myrtle thing?”

“Yes.”

“How could I resist? I still find it enormously funny that Draco was sobbing his heart out to Moaning Myrtle of all people,” he said.

“He wasn’t amused and it was pretty mean.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll be on the look out for his revenge. And if he can’t take it, he shouldn’t dish it out.”

Hermione couldn’t help but agree a little bit. It was true that Malfoy could be incredibly cutting and he teased the life out of her. But she did feel sorry for him over the Myrtle thing because of the severe stress he’d been under at the time. He’d obviously felt unable to talk to any of his friends and had used Myrtle as an outlet. She understood how cathartic talking your worries through with someone was now she was doing precisely that at counselling. 

Then again, she couldn’t expect Harry and Ron to agree; they’d always had the emotional ranges of a teaspoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Myrtle is a Ravenclaw in canon but for the purposes of the curse not be triggered earlier on, she's that rare thing - a Slytherin Muggle-born in this fic.


	18. Chapter 18

Hermione felt like banging her head against the table. The mixed group of Gryffindors and Slytherins had been meeting every Saturday afternoon in the back room at the Three Broomsticks for a month now and progress was very slow. They’d had a brief breakthrough where they had confirmed that it was Crabbe’s death in the Room of Requirement that had triggered the curse. 

She had joined forces with Malfoy who, thanks to owning so many house-elves, had good knowledge of their magic. He’d looked into it further after Dobby had gone through the apparition wards at Malfoy Manor to rescue Harry, Ron and Hermione when they were briefly imprisoned there. He’d told her that no Malfoy likes to be unprepared and he needed the information to close that loophole. Hermione hadn’t been too sure how she’d felt about that. After all, it was that loophole which had saved her life. Then again, she didn’t expect Malfoy to host psychopathic dark wizards with a blood purity problem any time soon. 

They had found that Rowena Ravenclaw had got Helga Hufflepuff to incorporate house-elf magic throughout the castle after Slytherin had left the school in a sulk. 

House-elves have complex magic, often a lot more advanced than the humans they serve. Their compliant nature makes them happy to remain under the control of witches and wizards who own them. Although she was sure it was the fact that they had been conditioned by humans to think that way. She was sure once more of her laws were passed, they could be educated regarding their amazing power and would strike out on their own, away from the malignant control of wizards and witches who just wanted to harness the house-elf magic for their own benefit. 

It seemed that Rowena and Helga had utilised this powerful magic and seeped it into the very walls of Hogwarts castle. This magic would pick up on any enmity than lead to either a Slytherin or Gryffindor death. It was wielded in such a way that it would ignore accidental deaths caused by lessons or Quidditch. The death had to come from real hatred and it appeared that Crabbe’s use of Fiendfyre to kill Harry, Ron and Hermione, along with his killing curse, had been just that. Malfoy had spoken in depth to the oldest and most experienced of his house-elves, Tufty, who had confirmed that this was indeed possible, although it would have taken a house-elf of great skill to do it.

So, they had identified and confirmed the curse but that was pretty much it. Everyone was getting frustrated and fed-up with the fact that they were seemingly unable to come up with any practical solution to breaking it. Even Bill was coming up with nothing. 

“Hang on,” Bill called out as everyone was beginning to pack up after another long frustrating day. “I think I might have something.”

Slumped shoulders straightened, hope infused the faces of everyone present and a gloomy atmosphere morphed into one of anticipation as everyone gazed expectedly at Bill.

“I’ve been reading through several books on curses embedded into buildings and have come to the conclusion that a blood libation of some kind needs to be offered.”

Disgust screwed up the faces of several people.

“What! You mean we have to sacrifice someone?!” Ron asked.

Bill closed his eyes in defeat. “Why did you ever have a crush on him?” he asked Hermione, staggered once more by his youngest brother’s inability to talk without thinking.

She couldn’t help but smile at Bill. Ron had many amazing qualities but when it came to thinking through complex bits of magic, he was usually all at sea. 

“No, Ronald, a blood libation doesn’t necessarily mean killing someone,” she explained. “You can offer up a small amount of symbolic blood. Only the darkest of magic asks for a person to be fully drained of their blood and Rowena Ravenclaw wouldn’t use that on Hogwarts.”

Obviously Ron was not the only one who misunderstood blood rites because there was a sigh of relief that went around the room with Hermione’s explanation.

“So do we just need to the blood of a Slytherin and Gryffindor?” Pansy asked.

Bill shook his head. “No, that would be too easy. It needs to be something that would show that the curse is unnecessary.”

“Something that negates the curse,” Hermione mused.

Malfoy smirked. “So, basically something that proves Slytherins and Gryffindors can get along? Something like this?” he asked, pulling Daphne’s left hand into the air and waving around the large diamond she was now sporting on her ring finger.

“Of course,” Hermione and Bill said at the same time. 

“Why is it always my blood that’s needed?” Harry moaned.

Hermione had some sympathy for her friend. It was his blood that was needed to revive Voldemort and now apparently his blood was needed to end the curse.

“It’s because you’re the Boy-Who-Lived,” Ron said.

“The Chosen One,” George said, joining in.

“A pain in the arse,” Malfoy added.

“So what do we need to do?” Daphne asked, ignoring the immature boys currently teasing her fiancé. 

“Well, I’ve been checking just to make sure, but I think you need to mingle your blood and seep it into the walls of where the curse was activated,” Bill said.

“But the Room of Requirement has been destroyed,” Neville pointed out.

There was general groaning around the room. “It appears your blood won’t be needed,” Blaise commented dejectedly to Harry.

“Is it possible that it could work in the corridor outside the Room?” Hermione asked.

Bill thought about this for a minute. “It’s possible. I mean, Ravenclaw had to be aware of the possibility that the room might be destroyed. It’s worth a shot anyway.”

“So what are we waiting for? Let’s go up to Hogwarts now,” Ginny said.

“Neville, would that be okay?” Daphne asked. “McGonagall won’t mind us just turning up en masse to perform a blood rite on the seventh floor corridor?”

Neville smiled. “I think she’d be fine with it as long as it’s to save her precious Hogwarts. And if you have a Professor with you.”

“Where are we going to get a Professor from?” Theo asked.

Pansy whacked him around the head. “Use the brain that I know you possess,” she said.

Theo looked at Pansy. “Sorry, I sounded like Weasley then. I knew Longbottom was the new Herbology Professor, I just forgot for a moment.”

Bill and George seemed to know that Theo’s dig wasn’t directed towards them. “Hey!” Ron protested. “I am not thick.”

“No, you’re just special,” Malfoy said.

“Shut it, Ferret Face!”

“As fun as this is,” Hermione began sarcastically, “I’d like to get moving now. It’d be nice to break this curse once and for all.”

\-------------

The group of ex-Hogwarts students made their way up the castle. Neville had sent his Patronus on ahead with a message to McGonagall explaining what they were doing. The Headmistress was waiting for them by the gates.

“Do you really think you have found a way to break the curse?” she asked as they arrived.

“I don’t know,” Bill answered truthfully. “But it’s worth a go.”

McGonagall nodded. 

There was a nervous air around the group as they walked up to the seventh floor. Everyone was hoping so much that this would work and break the curse. They arrived by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and on a whole, they all seemed to suck in a large breath of air as if mentally preparing for the joy or disappointment this experiment would bring.

“I haven’t been back here since that day,” Malfoy murmured to Hermione.

She smiled sympathically at the blond. She’d forgotten that he hadn’t returned back to Hogwarts to retake his seventh year. 

“Did you ever take your N.E.W.T.s?” she asked.

“Yes, I did them through a correspondence course with the Ministry. I had to wait until I had served my year in the Muggle world but I wouldn’t have come back to Hogwarts anyway.”

Hermione didn’t bother asking why. He would have had a difficult time had he returned - he wouldn’t exactly have been welcome. In fact, not many Slytherins from their year had returned. Blaise, Daphne and Tracey had, but they had never really been at the front of the whole Death Eater crowd and had kept themselves to themselves. At the time, she’d wondered if the other Slytherins, the ones who didn’t return, had taken their N.E.W.T.s, and if they had, had they had to go somewhere like Durmstrang to retake them. But it appeared that the Ministry had foreseen this problem and worked out a way for them to take the exams without having to return to Hogwarts.

“So do we need to say anything, Bill?” Harry asked as he faced the wall that used to house the Room of Requirement.

“Not that I’m aware of. From what I’ve read, curses like this are more about the actual blood rite than any spell or incantation.”

Harry took the knife that Neville handed over to him and cut a shallow line into the palm of his hand. Daphne shuddered as he handed the knife over to her.

“I hate blood,” she said before taking a deep breath and shakily making a similar cut into her own palm.

She and Harry then grasped hands, mixing their blood before pushing their palms against the stone wall. There was a brief flash of blue light and they pulled their hands away. 

“Do you think it worked?” Hermione asked Bill, looking hopeful.

“It’s hard to tell, but the blue flash is a good sign. It shows magical residue and I’ve had similar reactions when breaking curses for Gringotts. So I think we should definitely take it as a good sign,” he answered.

There were relieved grins all round as Bill’s words sank in. Harry cleaned and repaired Daphne’s hand and held his own out for Hermione to heal. Daphne was clearly very squeamish and was looking pale at the whole ordeal, so Hermione sorted Harry out quickly and efficiently. 

“I guess that’s that then,” Ron said cheerfully.

She smiled and then looked at Malfoy. This meant that she no longer had to spend any more time with him and certainly didn’t have to marry him. Whilst she was happy about the latter she did feel a little sad about the former, which was surprising. When this curse had first been revealed, she had wished for nothing more than to never see him again. But working on it, she’d come to appreciate him. He could still be irritating but she certainly didn’t hate him anymore. He made her laugh with his sarcastic wit and she enjoyed discussing various subjects with him. Having grown up in the heart of one of the oldest pure-blood families around, he had a perspective on things that she hadn’t heard before. They might not always agree but it was stimulating to debate with him. 

Malfoy turned to look at her quizzically as she continued to stare at him. She flushed faintly but gave him a faint smile. He narrowed his eyes slightly at her but said nothing, turning back to Ron who was making plans for a celebration.

\-----------

Much later that night in the Leaky Cauldron, Draco observed Hermione who was giggling away at Ron’s drunken antics. She was tipsy and looking ridiculously fetching with a pink blush on her cheeks. A festive mood had overtaken the group.

They’d originally returned to the Three Broomsticks for dinner before Neville had convinced them that they should go and pay a visit to Hannah Abbott at the Leaky Cauldron. Draco had more than a sneaking suspicion that Longbottom was rather taken with the Hufflepuff and was contemplating making a move now that the curse had been broken. But being as clueless as every other Gryffindor when it came to girls, Longbottom had needed rather a lot of liquid encouragement to go over and ask Hannah out and they’d all obliged in keeping up with him. 

Longbottom was now leaning against the bar, needing its support rather than trying to look cool, chatting away to Hannah, who didn’t appear to mind his rather worse for wear condition. 

There was now a smaller group left. Harry and Daphne had left first, looking disgustingly loved up. Blaise and Ginny had followed not long after and Draco didn’t need to use his imagination to guess what they were up to thanks to what happened in the Slytherin dorms. 

Draco looked towards the corner where Pansy and George had ensconced themselves and smirked as he noticed they were kissing. It appeared that not all Gryffindors were useless with women. George had been pretty smooth with Pansy and she had flourished under his attention. 

Draco was pleased for her. She deserved to be happy. She’d hankered after him long enough and he had never treated her with the respect he should have when they were teenagers, accepting her crush and using it to his advantage. After the war it had taken a while to get himself back on track and this had led to him being brutally honest with Pansy about his very platonic feelings towards her. But now she seemed to have found someone who made her happy and treated her right - and in the most unlikely of places. 

This brought his attention back to Hermione. She was confusing and complex and he wished that he could read her a little better. The way she’d been staring at him back at Hogwarts had given him a little hope that maybe she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she once had been. He knew that she didn’t hate him anymore. They had worked together really well on breaking the curse and he thought that she’d come to respect him. But she showed no signs of feeling anything deeper. He groaned mentally. It was completely unfair that he was more enamoured with her than ever. 

“Oi! That’s disgusting. Get a room!” Ron bellowed.

It appeared that Draco wasn’t the only one to have noticed the snogging pair. 

George pulled himself away from Pansy long enough to frown at his brother. “Just because you can’t get a girl to kiss you, doesn’t mean you should wreck the chances of your brother.”

“I can get a girl to kiss me,” Ron objected.

“Is that why Tracey Davies is over there being chatted up by Michael Corner, then?” George asked.

“Tracey and I don’t think of each other that way,” Ron said grumpily.

“Well, she seems to be celebrating the end of the curse by shacking up with someone else as quickly as possible,” George said teasingly.

Ron flushed bright red and looked a little dejected. 

“Don’t listen to George. You know how he likes to tease you,” Hermione said, not wanting her friend to be sad. “Besides, I’ve seen that little blonde over there giving you the eye all night.”

Ron looked up and spotted the blonde witch who looked away embarrassed that she’d been caught staring at him. Ron puffed out his chest and swaggered over to chat to her. Draco smiled as once more Hermione dissolved into giggles.

“Anyway, as fun as this has been, I’m off to take my brother’s advice,” George said, dragging Pansy up by her hand, who blushed rosily. 

“George!” she exclaimed scandalised.

“Oh please, it’s Hermione and Malfoy. I think they’re both smart enough to figure out what we’re going to do when we leave together,” George said.

“Firstly, I’m not going to jump into bed with you. And even if I was, it’s not something you should say,” Pansy insisted, embarrassed.

“Who said anything about bed? I wanted to take you up on that chess challenge you issued last week at the shop. And we couldn’t play here. It’s too noisy,” George teased.

Pansy blushed even harder, knowing that George had deliberately made his original statement sound dirtier than it really was and caused Hermione to giggle again. Draco rolled his eyes; George really was a piece of work at times. 

The stocky redhead leant down to give Hermione a kiss on the cheek. 

“Congratulations on beating that curse. Be good,” he said, ruffling her hair.

The curly-haired witch rolled her eyes. “What mischief am I going to get into at the Leaky Cauldron? Besides, Malfoy’s here and Ron’s over there,” Hermione said, pointing to the bar before realising that Ron must have got lucky and had disappeared. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Still, Malfoy’s here, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“That’s what I meant. You have to watch out for that Malfoy charm, it sneaks up on you,” George said, winking at his confused friend before laughing and walking out of the pub with Pansy.

Hermione just looked adorably confused and Draco suppressed a smile. George was obviously looking to cause as much mischief as possible. And Draco knew that if he wanted Hermione to stay then he’d have to treat her like those clueless best friends of her did: As if he hadn’t noticed how incredibly beautiful she was. 

“Fancy another drink?” he asked.

She looked a little unsure, clearly mulling George’s words over in her head. “I don’t know. I think I should get home.”

“Why? It’s not even eleven o’clock yet. Unless your rather scary father has given you a curfew.”

She laughed. “No, I’m back at my flat now. Although if I still were at home, Dad would be pacing around the front room until I got home. He doesn’t get to play the worried father very often and enjoys every moment of doing so.”

“So you can stay for another drink?” he asked insistently.

“I guess,” she said, still not too sure about whether she should or not.

“Please. Everyone else has gone and I’m under strict instructions not to return home until after midnight. Mother is having a romantic evening with Severus,” he lied.

She turned a little green at that. “But Malfoy Manor’s big enough for you to be there, surely?”

“You would think but I’ve walked in on some rather awkward moments.”

“Yuck, Malfoy! I don’t want to ever imagine Snape that way.”

Draco chuckled. “So, want another drink?”

She looked up, almost as if assessing his need. He put on his best innocent face and pleaded a little with his eyes. “Go on, then. But just for another hour.”

He leant down and whispered in her ear, “Thanks, that witch over there was looking as if she was going to pounce if you left.” 

Hermione turned her eyes in the direction he had pointed out and noticed a buxom witch in her late thirties eyeing him up as if he was a cauldron cake. She shuddered slightly and turned back to him. “I couldn’t leave you to that fate,” she said.

He turned away to the bar before letting his smirk surface. Gryffindors were so easy to manipulate.

\----------

It had gone more than an hour when Hannah came over to kick the giggling Gryffindor and the smirking Slytherin out.

“Come on, guys,” she said. “I want to get some sleep this year.”

Hermione turned and stared rather blearily at the blonde Hufflepuff. “Oh sorry, Hannah, what time is it?”

“It’s gone two o’clock,” she replied, smiling at the slightly slurring brunette.

“What?! But it was eleven o’clock just a minute ago. I better get home.”

She stood up in a rush and the alcohol went straight to her head. She staggered slightly and Malfoy gripped her arm. “Steady there, Granger.”

“What have you been feeding me?” she asked. She hadn’t felt this drunk in years.

“The Cauldron’s finest cocktails. What was that last one called, Abbott?” 

“I believe it was Slytherin’s Revenge,” Hannah replied.

Hermione clutched her whirling head and giggled. “He got revenge on me, all right. I’m struggling to stand up.”

The proprietor of the pub looked amused. She’d never seen her old school friend like this. She usually only allowed herself to get tipsy so she didn’t lose control. But here she was, absolutely plastered, needing Malfoy to keep her upright. Mind you, Hannah hadn’t imagined that Hermione would spend a good three hours in Malfoy’s company, clearly enjoying herself. 

She had been watching them for the past half an hour and Hermione had been having a whale of a time. However, she wasn’t sure she should trust the snarky blond to get her home. “Do you want to use the Floo Network to get home?”

“Oh no,” the other witch replied, giggling. “I don’t think I’ll be able to use it properly. I’ll probably end up in someone’s bedroom. I’ll end up disrupting your mum and Snape’s romantic evening, Malfoy.”

“I’ll get her home,” Malfoy said.

Hannah levelled a serious look at Malfoy. “You’d better, Malfoy, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Don’t worry, Hannah, Malfoy will look after me. After all, I can beat him in a duel if he tries anything,” she said, pulling her wand out and waving it around before promptly dropping it. 

The blond wizard stooped down and picked it up. “I think I’d better keep hold of that.”

Hannah watched as he steered the unsteady witch out of the pub. She bit her lip, not sure she’d done the right thing in not insisting she get Hermione home. From what Neville had said earlier then it seemed as if Malfoy was a different man and she’d seen him in here enough with Harry and Ron, but Hannah hadn’t liked the gleam in his eyes when he looked at Hermione. It was almost as if he wanted to eat her.

\--------

Draco got Hermione to the Apparition point without her falling over, which he felt was something to congratulate himself on. He’d wanted her to get a little drunk as he knew she would stay a little longer then, but hadn’t imagined the cocktails would affect her quite this much. It seemed that last one had tipped her over the edge. Luckily, he had stuck to less lethal drinks and was quite sober.

However, he was unsure whether Hermione would be able to Apparate herself home. She would probably end up splinching herself. He’d have to see if the fresh air had managed to sober her up. He left go of her and she swayed before leaning heavily against the wall. Great! There was no way she could Apparate and he didn’t know where she lived.

“Granger, where do you live?” he asked, hoping it was one of the small wizarding communities where it would be easy to find her house.

“I live in Paddington. It’s in Muggle London.”

Damn it. There was no way he was going to be able to wonder through Muggle London with Hermione, trying to get her to remember exactly where it was she lived.

“Okay, Granger, I’m going to bring you back to the Manor with me. You can’t Apparate and you’d probably end up splinching yourself.”

Hermione blinked owlishly at him. She shook her head slightly as if to clear it, appeared to fail and then nodded. Even in her sloshed state, he saw that she was sensible enough to recognise this. 

“Are we going to walk in on Snape somewhere?” she asked.

He smiled. “No, they’ll be in bed. It’s late.”

Draco took hold of her hand and Apparated them to the Manor. Luckily, they wouldn’t have to traverse the long drive up to the house as he could Apparate through the wards. 

Hermione groaned and clutched her stomach when they landed and he put his arm around her waist to steady her in case she needed to be sick.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Feel sick.”

“Take some deep breaths and let me know when you feel fine to move.”

She leant into him and took several large, deep breaths. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

Unfortunately, her balance hadn’t improved and after she’d stumbled into her fifth table, he decided that she was going to wake everyone up. He swung her up into his arms to save his heirlooms and to avoid disturbing his mother and stepfather.

“What are you doing?” she asked, confused.

“You’re going to wake everyone up if you continue walking into everything. This is easier, quicker and quieter. Do you really want Severus coming out and seeing you like this?”

She shuddered at the prospect. “No, he’ll dock points and give me detention.”

Draco chuckled at this but didn’t bother correcting her. 

They managed to make it to his wing of the house. He opened the door to his room and dropped her on the bed. “Stay there, I’m just going to get you some pyjamas.”

“Is this your room?” she asked, eyeing the books on the bedside table.

“Yes.”

“It’s not very Slytherin. I expected it to be decorated in green and have a giant snake painted on the wall,” she said before giggling at her unoriginal joke.

Draco rolled his eyes. “You Gryffindors might do things like that, but personally I prefer to decorate my room nicely.”

“It’s nice - comfortable,” she replied, looking around the neutrally decorated room. 

The walls were cream and the furniture was rich wood. There were bookshelves across one room and two doors leading somewhere. She presumed one would be an en suite bathroom. She staggered off the bed and traipsed across the room to his bookshelves whilst he opened one of the doors to reveal a walk in wardrobe. 

Hermione let her fingers trail across his books. He had many of the same ones as she did. She knew that there was a library at Malfoy Manor so she was surprised he had quite many in his room. She couldn’t help but find a man who read voraciously a bit of a turn-on. 

“Here, this is the best I could do,” he said from behind her. 

She turned around too quickly, making the room spin and she had to lean against the books. She took the clothes that Malfoy held out and clutched them to her chest. “Thanks,” she replied.

She made no effort to move. She just stood there staring at him. He looked rather gorgeous. In fact, she’d noticed all night that he had grown into a ridiculously attractive man. When he’d literally swept her off her feet, she couldn’t help but notice that he smelt yummy. It had been all she could do not to reach up and touch his hair and find out if it was as silky as it looked. 

She ran her eyes down his body, relishing how much he’d filled out before looking back up at him through her eyelashes. She decided to something spontaneous and reckless for once in her life and make a play for him.

“So am I sleeping here?” she asked, trying to sound a little sultry. 

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean to imply I was expecting anything like that. I just passed here to get you something to wear.”

Hermione decided she needed to try and flirt a little better if he was going to be so matter-of-fact in response. She sashayed back to the bed, the effect getting a little ruined by the fact that she managed to trip over her own feet halfway there. She sat down and patted the space next to her invitingly. “Oh, I don’t mind. It’s a very comfortable bed.”

Malfoy cleared his throat and Hermione was pleased to note that he was looking a lot less assured now. “Er… Granger, I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She tried out a husky laugh. “I think you can call me Hermione. After all, until today, we were pretty much engaged, _Draco_ ,” she said, unsure if she’d managed the sultry purr she was aiming for.

Deep at the back of her mind, she knew the alcohol had lowered her inhibitions dangerously. She stood back up and walked towards Malfoy who backed away until he was against the wall. She pushed herself up onto her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “Hermione sounds so much more intimate, don’t you think?”

Malfoy audibly gulped and she took this as encouragement. She’d never set out to seduce anyone before and she was enjoying the heady feeling she was getting from it. She trailed a line of kisses down from his ear, across his jaw and softly kissed the corner of his mouth. 

She pulled back briefly but when all he did was stare at her with confused eyes, she moved back in for the kill. The blond remained as still as a statue for a few seconds before he looped his arms around Hermione, crushed her to him and kissed her passionately.


	19. Chapter 19

Hermione awoke to cheerful sunshine pouring in through her window. She must have forgotten to close her curtains before going to bed last night and now the bright, wintery sun was blinding her. She peered through her eyelids and quickly sat up, confused. This wasn’t her bedroom. 

Someone cleared their throat and Hermione looked down into the eyes of a little house-elf. 

“Miss Hermione, Master Draco told Coco to give you these. Coco washed them for you and theys all nice and clean.” The house-elf pointed to her clothes, sitting neatly folded on a chair.

She closed her eyes briefly as the events from last night washed over her but composed herself because she didn’t want to break down in front of the house-elf. It was bound to be reported back to Malfoy. “Thank you very much, Coco,” was all she said.

The house-elf beamed up at her, bowed before clicking her bony fingers and Apparating out of the room.

Hermione groaned, threw herself back on the bed and pulled a pillow over her face. What had she been thinking? That was the problem: she hadn’t been thinking and had been utterly drunk. She thanked her lucky stars that Malfoy at least had some morals and hadn’t actually slept with her. No, he’d kissed her senseless and then deposited her in a guest bedroom.

And now she felt humiliated. It was true that she would never have thrown herself at him if she hadn’t been drunk, but she had done it and had had to rely on him to be a gentleman and turn her down. 

This was why she didn’t get drunk. The last time she’d been this intoxicated, she’d allowed the Patil twins to dare her to break into the Department of Mysteries. She’d been caught before she’d even got anywhere near the department, of course. It didn’t take a super security guard to hear and track down a drunken woman stumbling about loudly in high-heels. She had been lucky that she hadn’t lost her job. She suspected Hestia had only taken a lenient view because of her reputation as a war hero. 

If Hermione had any clue about how to get around Malfoy Manor and had her wand, she would definitely be sneaking out without seeing Malfoy. Unfortunately, she was going to have to track him down in order to reclaim her wand, which he’d had to take because she hadn’t been able to hold on to it. And she was meant to be the Brightest Witch of her Age. Sometimes life really wasn’t fair.

Her musings were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. 

“Hermione, are you in there?” Malfoy’s voice came from the other side.

For a brief moment, she contemplated ignoring him and pretending that she’d gone back to sleep or escaping out the window, the latter looking like a more attractive prospect every second. She didn’t need her wand. She could go and buy another one from Ollivanders. So what if it didn’t suit her as well? Then she realised that Malfoy was one of the most annoying and persistent people on the planet. If she didn’t confront him now he’d end up tracking her down at her office and she really didn’t want an audience. She was feeling wretched enough without one.

She struggled out of the tangle of sheets and duvets and padded barefoot over to the door, opened it slightly and peered out. 

“Hello, Malfoy,” she tried to say breezily but it came out as mortified whisper. Stupid voice not listening to what her brain was commanding!

He eyed her face for a while before saying anything. “Mother wanted to let you know lunch will be served in half an hour.”

Hermione had completely forgotten that Malfoy lived with his mum and stepdad. There would be more people to witness her shame. _What kind of grown man still lived with his mum?_ she thought snidely. She wondered if he had said anything about what happened last night. She couldn’t bear the thought of Snape knowing she’d thrown herself at Malfoy and been rejected. 

“Er… I think… I mean, I should get home,” she said hesitantly.

“Stay for lunch. Mother will be upset if you rush off.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Hermione,” he said, frustration lacing his voice, “for once in your life, don’t over-analyse everything. Don’t be stubborn, and just stay for lunch. Believe me, it will raise more questions if you just rush off.”

She blushed a vivid red and looked everywhere but at the blond currently lounging against the doorframe. She nodded. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

“I thought it was Draco now.”

She broke out of her mortified state to glare daggers at him. It was just like him – the git – to remind her of last night rather than just pretend it didn’t exist. He smirked at her before turning away.

“Hang on, Malfoy. Where do you eat lunch and how do I get there?” she asked, coming out of the room to call to him. 

“I’ll come back up to get you. By the way, those clothes look better on you than they do me, Kitten,” he said before walking down the corridor.

Hermione quickly walked back into her room and slammed the door shut, ignoring the laughter she could hear coming from outside the door. She looked down at the shorts and t-shirt he’d given her to wear, only just realising that they were obviously from his days on the Slytherin Quidditch team, emblazoned with the Slytherin crest. The training kit was from his skinnier days and clung to her in all the wrong – well, right would be the word if she was actually trying to impress someone – places. She growled slightly as she flounced her way to the bathroom. The tantrum was less impressive as there was no one to witness it.

\-------

Exactly half an hour later, Malfoy was back knocking on her door. Typically it was when she was cursing her stupid hair. It was refusing to do anything but curl riotously around her head in a ridiculously bushy manner. To top it off, she had a headache pounding away at the back of her brain and was in a thoroughly bad mood. She cursed as she gave up trying to tame her rebellious hair and stomped over to the door.

“Do you have my wand?” she asked grouchily, holding her hand out imperiously.

“Here you go, Kitten,” he replied putting it in her hand.

As she felt the familiar power pulse along the wand into her hand, she breathed a little more easily. She never felt completely at ease without it. She blamed it as a hang-up from the war. 

Malfoy seemed to pick up on the fact that she wasn’t going to make small talk as they made their way downstairs but half way down the flight of stairs, she grabbed his arm to halt him. 

“Does your mum know about last night?” she asked.

“Obviously, Hermione, otherwise she’d think you were really weird coming by early in the morning to get some sleep,” Malfoy said dryly.

She waved her free hand impatiently. “Not why I’m here but you know about… the… thing that happened,” she stumbled. 

“Oh yes, I tell my mother about all the girls I kiss,” he said sarcastically before rolling his eyes. “Don’t be daft, Granger. I just said that you got a little too drunk and couldn’t get home.”

“Thanks, and I really am sorry about the whole thing.”

“I meant what I said earlier; try not to do your usual act. There’s no need to make a big deal out of it.”

She nodded but couldn’t quite look him in the face. It was easy for Malfoy to say, he hadn’t thrown himself at her. He wasn’t the one who’d completely humiliated himself. 

They continued to make their way to the dining room and she nervously flattened her hair before going in. It wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference to the frizzy mess but she hoped it would anyway. She ignored the amused look Malfoy threw her. He wouldn’t understand her pain; he had perfect hair and it was such a waste on a boy. What she would only do if she had hair like that. He just kept it short and neat. 

“She won’t bite,” he commented.

“No, but Snape might.”

Malfoy gave a sharp bark of laughter at that. “That’s true. At least you’re not Potter. He still loathes him.”

“Draco darling, is that you?” Narcissa called out.

“Yes, Mother. We’re coming.”

Hermione felt pretty shy. She’d never had to crash at a friend’s house due to being too drunk to get home. And Malfoy wasn’t exactly a friend. It was all very awkward and that was without the snogging session thrown in the mix. She cast a brief look at the table and saw Narcissa smiling encouragingly at her.

“Hello, Mrs. Snape. I am sorry to inconvenience you,” she said politely.

“Nonsense, dear. It’s no inconvenience. As you can see we have plenty of space. Please, sit down and have a cup of tea.”

Hermione slid into the nearest seat and was about to take a sip from the tea that Narcissa passed along to her when a potion vial slid under her nose. 

“I thought Miss Granger may well want this first,” Snape said to his wife.

Hermione looked up from the vial of hangover potion and into the sallow face of her ex-Professor in shock. Had Severus Snape just done something nice for her? 

“You may drink it, Miss Granger. I haven’t poisoned it.”

Hermione flushed. Snape always made her feel as if she was a twelve-year-old girl back at Hogwarts and eager to please. “Of course not, Professor. Thank you very much,” she said and downed the potion.

Her headache cleared almost instantaneously. The rather fuzzy taste in her mouth receded and her stomach unclenched. It almost felt as if she’d been given a new body with everything feeling shiny and new. 

“Unfortunately, no potion has been invented yet that can sort out that birds nest on top of your head,” Snape drawled, automatically ruining the favourable feelings Hermione had been experiencing towards him. It wasn’t as if he had the nicest hair in world. 

“Severus!” Narcissa scolded. 

Malfoy snorted and Hermione shot him a nasty look. Narcissa quickly moved the conversation on to less fraught topics and Hermione thankfully ate lunch, wanting to get this ordeal over as quickly as possible so that she could crawl back to her flat and hide. 

When they were finished, Malfoy and his mother accompanied Hermione to the parlour where their Floo connection was situated. 

“Thank you once more for allowing me to stay,” Hermione said to Narcissa.

“It was no trouble. Please come over more often. Preferably for other reasons than being too drunk to get home.”

Hermione shuddered a little. “I’m never drinking again,” she declared.

Malfoy chuckled at that. “You wait until you have another Slytherin’s Revenge. You guzzled that down as if it was pumpkin juice.”

“I’m certainly staying away from anything Slytherin related.”

“I hope you don’t mean that, Hermione dear. I for one would love to see you again,” Narcissa said.

Hermione flushed a little. She hadn’t meant to come across as rude and had only meant Malfoy, not his mum. Malfoy smirked at her knowingly. 

“I hope I didn’t wake you up or ruin your romantic evening,” she said.

Narcissa looked a little quizzically at her son. “We didn’t hear you at all.”

\------------

Narcissa watched as Hermione took a handful of Floo powder, thanked her once more for her hospitality and disappeared into the emerald green flames. As soon as the young lady was gone, she rounded on her son.

“What romantic evening, Draco?” she asked.

“I may have made up a teeny little lie to get Hermione to stay with me at the pub last night.”

Narcissa folded her arms and looked incredibly unimpressed. 

“ _What?!_ She broke the curse and she wanted to go as soon as everyone else did. She’s not going to voluntarily hang out with me,” he explained.

“Did you get her drunk on purpose?” 

“No! I wanted to keep her tipsy so she’d be relaxed but not get her so drunk that she couldn’t get home.”

“You better be telling the truth, Draco Malfoy,” Narcissa threatened.

“I am. I’m not dastardly.”

“She seemed highly embarrassed this morning. More than one would expect for someone who just stayed the night because they couldn’t get home.”

Draco swore and Narcissa internally smiled. She always knew when he was lying and was quick to pull him up on it. She’d made it her life mission after the end of the war, and the death of his father, to work on his manners. She realised how spoilt and nasty her son had become and wanted to change it. 

“She may have kissed me,” he said reluctantly.

“Did you take advantage of the poor girl?”

“No!” he exclaimed. “Merlin’s beard, Mother, what kind of man do you take me for? She was drunk!”

Narcissa softened and smiled at her son. “Of course you didn’t, darling,” she said, patting his cheek.

She left her son and walked back to the dining room where Severus was drinking tea leisurely and reading. She rubbed her hands in glee as she walked in and he eyed her unusual gesture with interest.

“What are you so pleased about?” he asked.

“Ooh… I need to owl Rachel Granger,” she crowed happily. “Those two will end up together, mark my words.”

Severus went back to his Potions book, clearly unimpressed. “I see no evidence of it. The girl can barely look at Draco.”

“That’s because she kissed him last night.”

“I fail to see why that is so significant. She was drunk. People do stupid things when they are drunk.”

She waved his objections away as if swatting an annoying fly. “You’re a man. You don’t understand. If I know anything about Hermione Granger, it’s the fact that she doesn’t throw herself at just any man, too much drink or not. Obviously, I’m pleased that Draco didn’t take advantage of her, but it’s a bit of a shame because now she’s horribly embarrassed and it’s set them back a little. I bet she’s feeling awkward, and despite it all, a little rejected.”

“I should hope he didn’t use her,” Severus said, startled out of his Potions book at the thought of his stepson doing something so reprehensible. 

She sighed. “No, it was completely the right thing to do but he’s going to have to work hard to get her to willingly see him again. She was mortified. I’ll have to let Rachel know.”

“Do what you must but please do not embroil me in your schemes. I want nothing to do with that bushy-haired know-it-all, or your son’s messy love-life for that matter.”

Narcissa bristled. “Draco doesn’t have a messy love-life.”

Severus looked at her sceptically. “He’s had a thing for Granger since Hogwarts. It wasn’t difficult to see. I believe even his friends picked up on it at one point. It was only his infernal pride and silly blood purity notions that kept him from doing anything about it. Then he went and fought on the opposite side of the war, earning her enmity more than ever. And now, when she kisses him, he has to turn her down because she’s too drunk, making her feel humiliated. If that’s not messy, I don’t know what is.”

She pursed her lips and sighed. She hated it when her husband was right. This was going to be more difficult than she’d predicted. But at least Rachel would know how to bring Hermione round.

\-----------

Draco himself was dragging himself back up the stairs, oblivious to his mother’s schemes to make him happy. He flopped back onto his bed and tried to get the scenes from last night out of his head. He was starting to contemplate moving bedrooms. Hermione had pretty much played out one of his biggest fantasies but had only done so because she had been plastered. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that she would ever have come onto him if she hadn’t had huge quantities of alcohol swimming in her blood.

And now he was left with the memories of the hottest kiss in his life and it was in his bedroom. The memories were going to haunt him. 

_Draco knew that he couldn’t continue kissing Hermione. He was going to have to stop this really soon because her hands were roaming everywhere and making him forget all the reasons why he shouldn’t just go along with it. He pulled away and pushed her a little way back._

_“What’s wrong, Draco?” she asked huskily._

_“We have to stop.”_

_“Why?” she asked, running her hands down his chest and kissing his throat._

_“Because you’re really drunk, Hermione.”_

_“So? I like what we’re doing. Don’t you?”_

_He captured her hands, which were doing too much to undermine any self-control he had at the moment. “Too much, but you’ll regret this in the morning.”_

_She pouted like a small child denied a sweet. “No, I won’t,” she sulked, trying to pull her hands out of his grasp._

_“Hermione, I said no! This is not a good idea.”_

_She looked up at him with hurt radiating out of her eyes. She stepped away from him and looked down at the floor. “I guess you wouldn’t want to touch a Mudblood. You might catch my germs.”_

_Draco groaned. Only Hermione could turn everything on its head and make him doing the honourable thing seem as if he was being a cad._

_“I was just kissing you so that doesn’t make any sense,” he said, trying to rectify the situation._

_“Yes, but you don’t want to continue.”_

_“But only because you have had too much too drink,” he said, frustrated._

_Never try and reason with a drunk person. He realised how true this was. It was impossible, especially when the drunk in question was a stubborn, bushy-haired, gorgeous witch, determined to have her way. She was also unreasonable enough to find insult in anything he said._

_Hermione turned away and he heard what suspiciously sounded like a stifled sob. Oh no! She was going to cry. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Hermione cry, not even when he was at his nastiest to her._

_“Please, don’t cry,” he said._

_“I’m not crying,” she replied, her muffled voice highlighting what a lie that was. “It’s just… Why does nobody want me?”_

_Now Draco felt even worse. He should have just let her leave the pub at eleven o’clock. He put his arm around her shoulder. “Hermione, you’re beautiful and I would love to continue kissing but you’ll hate me tomorrow if we take this any further.”_

_She sniffled and buried her face in his shirt. Draco stroked her hair and let her have her cry. At least she didn’t get violent when she was drunk. She probably would have killed him if she did._

Draco was pulled out of his thoughts by Coco. “Master Draco, Miss Hermione left these in the guest bedroom. Do you want Coco to wash them before putting them in your cupboard?” 

The little house-elf was holding out the clothes Draco had leant to Hermione to sleep in. “No, don’t worry, just leave them there,” he said.

He waited until the house-elf had gone before picking the t-shirt up and breathing in Hermione’s scent. He then scoffed at his actions - he really was losing it. It was a good thing he was in the privacy of his bedroom because if anyone had seen that they would have laughed at how pathetic he was being. Instead of mooning over the infuriating woman, he was better off spending his time trying to work out how to move her past her embarrassment and get her to want to jump him again, this time sober. 

He knew exactly whom he needed to see.

\-------

Hermione was happy to be away from the scene of her crime. Right now, she would willingly never see Draco Malfoy again.

“There you are! Where the bloody hell have you been?!” Ron bellowed at her as she stepped out of her fireplace.

She looked up to see Harry and Ron standing in her front room. Harry’s hair was even crazier than usual, as if he’d been running his hands through it continuously.

“What? Did we say we’d meet up today?” she asked.

“No, Hannah came to check if you’d got home safely this morning and you weren’t here so she came to tell us. We’ve been waiting for you for a couple of hours. I was about to report you missing,” Harry said.

“Did Hannah not tell you that I was with Malfoy?” she asked, getting more confused by the minute. She really didn’t need all this drama right now.

“Yes, but she seemed worried about that,” Harry explained.

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “Hang on, you are the ones who have been friends with Malfoy for years but you don’t trust him to get me home?”

Harry and Ron looked a little sheepish. 

“Well, when you put it like that…” Harry said.

“But he didn’t get you home. Where have you been?” Ron asked.

“I was too drunk to Apparate home and Malfoy doesn’t know where I live so he took me back to Malfoy Manor and I stayed the night there.”

She then completely disconcerted her best friends by bursting into tears.

“What did he do to you, Hermione?” Ron asked frantically. “By Godric, if he touched you inappropriately I’ll skin him alive.”

Harry looked just as murderous. She stopped sobbing long enough to disabuse them of the idea that Malfoy had done anything wrong before they went over there and made everything worse. 

“No, it’s not like that. I’m the one who jumped him and he…he rejected me.”

Harry and Ron enveloped her into a massive group bear hug and squished her between them on the sofa. 

“Shush, don’t cry,” Harry said.

“I feel so stupid,” she sobbed. 

“You didn’t want to sleep with him, did you, Hermione?” Ron asked, a little unsure.

“I did last night. I all but begged him to and he wouldn’t.”

“But that’s a good thing, right?” Ron asked again, completely baffled.

“Yes, but it doesn’t make me feel any less rejected or humiliated!” she wailed.

Harry and Ron just stroked Hermione’s back and let her cry it all out. They were relieved that Draco had some morals and hadn’t taken advantage of their friend. But they were also aware of her fragile self-esteem when it came to boys. Malfoy had done much to develop it when they had been at Hogwarts and it seemed he’d unwittingly made her feel ugly and completely unlovable once more.

\----------

Draco barged into Blaise’s bedroom, waking up the two occupants in his bed. “Are you still sleeping?” he asked incredulously. “It’s gone two o’clock in the afternoon.”

Blaise lifted his head up. “What are you doing, Draco? You can’t just storm into my room.”

“Yes, I can. Now get out, I want to talk to the Weaselette.”

“Piss off, Draco,” his friend said grumpily.

“You have until the count of three and then I’m whipping the covers off you.”

Ginny pushed her hair back and rubbed her eyes sleepily. “Blaise, just do as he wants, otherwise he’s never going to go away and a cup of coffee would be amazing. Malfoy, give me a minute to put some clothes on.”

Blaise glared at his unrepentant friend but knew a losing battle when he saw it. He grouchily got out of bed, pulled some tracksuit bottoms on and strong-armed the blond out of the room so his girlfriend could make herself decent. 

“I’m not sure why I don’t just kick you out and change the wards,” he growled at his friend – possibly soon to be ex-friend.

“Because I’ll break them down and by the time I do that I’ll be pissed off,” Draco replied. “Now go make coffee. White, no sugar in case you can’t remember.”

Blaise mumbled something about Draco wearing the coffee rather than drinking it but he wasn’t worried. Blaise liked him too much to do that.

A muffled shout from the bedroom told him that Ginny was dressed and waiting. He opened the door walked in.

“This better be good, Malfoy,” she all but snarled at him.

“It is. I need your help.”

Ginny snorted at him. “You’re not going about it the right way.”

“It’s regarding Hermione,” he said and the redhead’s ears pricked up. “But before I tell you anything, you have to swear you won’t mention this conversation to anyone. Not even Blaise.”

She rolled her eyes but agreed. Malfoy performed a wizard’s oath, which meant she’d break out in nasty boils if she’d lied. She would’ve objected but she’d have done the same thing in his shoes. 

“Now you’ve got all the reassurance you need, are you ready to get on and tell me what this is all about?” she asked.

Draco then proceeded to fill the impatient redhead in. He had to stop in order for Blaise to bring the coffee in. The handsome Slytherin was not pleased when he was promptly thrown back out again. 

“So let me get this straight, Hermione pretty much jumped you?” Ginny asked when he’d finally finished his story. “I knew that weekend at Hogwarts that she still wanted to get down and dirty with you!”

“Well, she didn’t seem to think so this morn – hang on, what do you mean still?” he asked.

Ginny swore. She couldn’t tell Draco that Hermione had had fantasies about him back in their sixth year, could she? Hermione would have a fit. Then again, it might help the blond win her back over. 

“I’m telling you something now that Hermione told me in complete confidence. Use this against her and I swear I will make sure you cannot have any little mini Malfoys -ever.”

He just nodded. 

“Okay, well after the meeting at the Ministry in October where Hermione made a complete fool of herself, she told me something that she had never told anyone before. I’m completely breaking the friendship code in telling you this so don’t make me regret it, Malfoy.”

“Just get on with it.”

“Well, Hermione used to have a crush on you in your sixth year.”

Draco just sat on the end of the bed with his mouth open for a minute. Hermione had actually liked him at some point? Before he’d gone and ruined his chances by trying to kill Dumbledore, coming out as a Death Eater and generally standing by the Dark Lord’s side. 

“What?” he asked, stunned.

Ginny didn’t blame the blond for being confused. “Yes, she had a little infatuation for you and some pretty improper thoughts.”

He smirked at that. “Fantasised about me, did she? What girl at Hogwarts didn’t?”

She rolled her eyes before throwing a pillow at the smug Slytherin. “Get over yourself, Malfoy. No one but Hermione could have found you attractive when you were all pasty from being holed up in the Room of Requirement.”

He leered at her teasingly. “So you’re saying that you fantasised about me at other times? Does Blaise know?”

She looked very unimpressed. “Malfoy, you walked in on my school-girl fantasy and it was _always_ Blaise I imagined it being with.”

Draco burst out laughing. “Really? You fantasised about getting it on with Blaise in the Slytherin dorms? You little minx!”

“Yes, well at least I didn’t dream about seducing Slytherins in the library,” she shot back before gasping and putting her hand over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to tell him that much.

“Granger wanted to seduce me in the Hogwarts library, did she? Now why doesn’t that surprise me? Maybe I’ll give her an opportunity to do so.”

“If she ever lets you near her again.”

He sobered up and sighed. Ginny had a point. “You might be right about that. You should have seen her earlier. She was mortified and would have snuck out of Malfoy Manor if she’d known the way.”

“Of course she would’ve. But you can’t blame her. She’s just discovered she still has a crush on you after all those years of thinking you were the devil.”

“What am I going to do? She’s not going to willingly allow me within a metre of her if I know her.”

Ginny acknowledged the truth of that. Hermione was ridiculously stubborn and this would have scared her witless. 

“You do realise that you only have yourself to blame?” Ginny asked.

“Me? What did I do?” he replied, confused.

“You’re the main reason she’s got such low self-esteem. All those years of laughing at her appearance and pretty much comparing her to a troll took its toll.”

He groaned. “I knew my past would come back to haunt me.”

“Yes, well luckily for you, it’s not irredeemable. She’ll respect the fact that you showed some morals last night and you just need to show her that she’s attractive and I have the perfect place for you to do that,” she said and proceeded to share her plan with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I couldn't have Draco actually go through with sleeping with her. That's considered rape in some countries (and in my head).


	20. Chapter 20

Rachel sat down next to Matthew, looking like the cat that got the cream. 

“What are you so pleased about?” he asked. “And where have you been?”

“Oh, I met Narcissa in Diagon Alley for lunch,” she replied.

His wife should have been a witch. She absolutely adored the wizarding world. Having a daughter that was one wasn’t the same because Hermione lead her own life. But now Rachel had a friend who was a witch, she got to spend lots of time assuaging her curiosity about it all. 

He raised an eyebrow at that. “You do realise that Diagon Alley is for wizards, right?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “And I was with a witch. Besides, can you really imagine Narcissa spending much time in Muggle London?”

Matthew acknowledged that his wife had a point. The icy blonde wasn’t the most comfortable around non-magic people. In fact, it was quite a surprise that she and Rachel had become such good friends. They saw each other pretty regularly. Narcissa had also arranged for the Grangers’ house to be hooked up to the Floo Network, so visiting was a lot easier. Matthew hadn’t been too comfortable with this, mainly because Rachel hadn’t spoken to Hermione about it beforehand. He wasn’t sure even if Hermione knew yet. She hadn’t been back to visit much recently because she was knee-deep in trying to break this curse that would tie her to Draco Malfoy. 

“So apart from seeing Narcissa and getting time to browse in Diagon Alley, what are you so excited about?” he asked. 

“Hermione stayed at Malfoy Manor over the weekend,” she said gleefully.

Matthew sat up straighter. That didn’t sound like something to be excited about at all. 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, she was out celebrating ending the curse, got very drunk and Draco took her back to the Manor.”

“She broke the curse? That’s my gir… hang on, did you say Malfoy took my daughter back to his house when she was drunk?” he growled, his enormous hands curling into impressive fists. 

Rachel watched with amusement as her husband became angry - she loved to tease him. She patted his arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry, he didn’t touch her, although not for lack of her trying.”

Matthew was turning an alarming shade of red. “What do you mean?! I’m going to kill that little snot. I should have done it when he came over here before!”

Rachel giggled, causing him to get even angrier. 

“I don’t see what is so funny about this!” he growled.

“It’s just you should be shaking Draco’s hand, not threatening to kill him. Hermione apparently kissed him, but being a gentleman, Draco put a stop to it, knowing that she was drunk.”

His huge shoulders slumped and he let out a massive whoosh of air. “That boy is lucky.”

“Maybe now you’ll admit now that he’s not that bad?”

Matthew was nothing if not fiercely loyal to his daughter. He knew that Hermione was getting on better with the Malfoy boy now but he wasn’t going to be giving him any seal of approval unless Hermione had first. 

“He’s okay,” Matthew said unenthusiastically.

Rachel tutted. “Is any man going to be good enough for your little girl?” 

“Just because he won you over with a smile and some nice words, doesn’t mean he’s going to get around me that easily.”

“Are you ever going to let that go? I wanted to make things easier for Hermione and considering he wasn’t behaving like the annoying prat she’d described, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Someone had to with you breathing down his neck and Hermione holed up in her room.”

“And it had nothing to do with his nice smile and shiny white teeth?” 

“He’s a good looking boy. There’s nothing wrong with wanting that for my daughter,” she said defensively.

He just gave her a look. “What have you and Narcissa been planning? It can’t be anything good.”

“Did you know that Hermione gives an excuse to avoid attending the Ministry of Magic Christmas party every year?” Rachel asked.

“No. So what if she does?”

“It’s the biggest event of the year and her non-attendance is apparently looked down on by many of the Ministry’s top people.”

Matthew hummed at that. He wanted Hermione to be successful. She had sacrificed most of her teenage years to ensure that she had a place in the world of magic and he wanted that place to be big. 

“Apparently she says that we hold a Christmas party on the same day.” 

“And it’s bad for her career?” he asked.

Rachel just nodded.

“So what did you and Narcissa plan?”

“I may have mentioned how Hermione stays with us on that night every year and how, now we are connected to the Floo Network, Draco should come round and pick her up to take her to the party,” Rachel said with her fingers crossed, knowing that her husband’s support was key to this working.

“It can’t be Harry or Ron?” 

“Well, Harry is taking his fiancée and apparently Ron met a girl the other night in the pub and has already arranged for her to go with him,” Rachel replied.

“That Longbottom bloke?” Matthew asked, getting a little desperate.

“Dating someone.”

Matthew groaned. He was going to have to agree to this insanity. He didn’t want Hermione to miss out in realising her ambitions because she refused to go to a party. She could be as anti-social as he was and as stubborn to boot and that wasn’t good if this Ministry insisted people attended their events. “Okay, I accept this, but on one condition.”

Rachel pursed her lips. “What is it?”

“I want to have a little chat with Malfoy. You can go and chivvy Hermione upstairs to get changed and leave me to talk to the boy.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes but conceded. She hadn’t really thought that she would get his support so she was more than prepared to allow a concession.

\-------

“Draco darling, is that you?” Narcissa called out as soon as Draco arrived.

“Yes, Mother.”

“Can you come here a minute? I want to talk to you.” 

Draco groaned. He’d been dragged around shops by Ginny Weasley all day and forced to shell out a fortune on her idea to win Hermione over. He really didn’t feel like listening to whatever his mother was concocting right now. 

He reluctantly walked into the sunroom, his mother’s preferred lounging area, even in the deep of winter. 

“What is it, Mother? I’ve had a difficult day.”

Narcissa frowned at her son. “Is that any way to speak to the woman who is doing her utmost to ensure your future happiness?”

He looked to the ceiling as if seeking strength. “What have you done now?”

“I may have organised with Rachel Granger for you to take Hermione to the Ministry Christmas Party,” she said.

“Oh!” he exclaimed.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“No, it’s just I’m a little surprised. I’ve been out shopping with Ginevra Weasley all afternoon, and I had to pay for a dress for Hermione that I haven’t been allowed to see, so I can take her to the party,” he said, scowling at the thought.

Narcissa beamed at him. “You had the same idea. I knew you were in love with her.”

He definitely didn’t the like the direction this conversation was going. Give his mother and inch and she would take a mile. “I never said I was in love with her.”

She just smiled patronisingly at him and patted his cheek. “She’s good for you,” was all she said.

Draco scowled even more. His mother could be so annoying at times.

\--------

Hermione was congratulating herself on a job well done. Once again, she had thwarted the evil powers at work and wriggled out of a mind-numbingly boring party. She didn’t care how much Ginny went on about how good the food and music were, she didn’t want to be chased around the ballroom by lecherous wizards that made Cormac McLaggen seem saintly in comparison, or have to fight off those angry at her latest laws protecting house-elves. Nope, this year, as with every year since she’d first refused to attend this event, she was staying at her parents and watching the Star Wars trilogy with her dad until they fell asleep on the sofa.

She’d also managed to dodge any sight of Malfoy since that debacle the other weekend. Harry and Ron had comforted her, fed her lots of junk food and cheered her up with their antics that day. She’d gone to sleep feeling marginally happier but still with no desire ever to set eyes on Malfoy again. Sadly, her subconscious wasn’t playing along with her need to forget all about it. His kisses haunted her dreams and she woke up these days with her lips tingling. However, she was determined not to give in to her basic impulses, no matter how many times her dreams took her into the Hogwarts library and had her seduce a Slytherin-clad Malfoy, who did what she wanted. It was debauched and she would have nothing to do with it whatsoever. 

Hermione padded downstairs in her comfy fuzzy slippers. At one point they had been cats but were so battered now that they resembled indiscriminate balls of fluff. She had on her baggiest and most comfortable pyjamas and her hair was thrown up in a scruffy ponytail. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to wear anything else?” her dad asked, eyeing her penguin pyjamas.

“Why? It’s not like we’re expecting company,” she replied. 

Her dad looked torn, as if he wanted to say something, but her mum came into the room. “Are the pair of you having dinner in here as you usually do when you watch _Star Wars_?”

“Sounds like a plan. Is that alright with you, Fuzzy Bear?” 

Rachel then caught sight of Hermione properly as she went to put the film in to start it. “Er… Hermione, love, do you possibly want to get changed?”

She huffed. “What is it with the pair of you and me getting changed? I wear these pyjamas a lot and neither of you have complained before.”

Her parents looked around the room a little shiftily, meeting neither her eyes nor each other’s. Hermione sighed. She hated it when they got like this. It usually meant they were up to something. The last time they’d done this, a ‘nice young man’ from their practice had been invited home to meet her. She had not been impressed and had stressed how much she didn’t appreciate her parents butting into her love-life, no matter how rubbish it was. 

Now, however, her parents seemed to sense her unease. Her mother made good her escape and her dad pressed play and the Star Wars theme music started.

Hermione soon forgot all about her parents’ weird behaviour as she scoffed her bowl of steaming pasta and sighed over Han Solo – her childhood crush. Okay, so he was a little abrasive but at least he had fire in him. And yes, he was selfish and had to be coerced into doing things but he took Princess Leia’s breath away. At least he wasn’t like the kind but drippy Luke Skywalker. 

And yes, she certainly was ignoring the part of her brain that proceeded to point out how similar those traits were to a certain snarky blond she’d humiliated herself in front of. She was not going to go all gooey-eyed over Draco Malfoy because he’d kissed her like no one had before. 

Hermione soon lost her enjoyment of the film as her stupid, stubborn brain refused to do her bidding. It was currently imposing Malfoy’s image over that of Han Solo and she was rapidly losing the will to live. And she still had two and a half films to go. 

The whoosh of her parents’ fireplace startled her out of the self-chastisement she was currently undertaking. She screamed and scrambled around for her wand as a tall, shrouded figure stepped through the emerald flames. 

“Who are you?!” she screamed, aiming her wand at the intruder and shooting a Stunning Spell at him. 

The intruder toppled backwards, bashing his head painfully against the mantelpiece and slumping to the floor. 

Rachel came running into the room as Matthew starting to laugh loudly. Hermione ran forward and ripped the hood of the cloak back to reveal Draco Malfoy. 

The whoosh of the fireplace went again and Ginny stepped out, tripped over Malfoy, covering them both in fabric and dropping make up over them both.

Scrambling up onto her feet, Ginny turned to Hermione who seemed stunned into disbelief, kneeling by the side of Malfoy. “I take it you didn’t tell her about being hooked up to the Floo Network.”

Rachel shook her head, looking a little distraught at the mayhem around her whilst Matthew was still shaking with laughter. 

Ginny waved her hand in front of her friend’s face. “Hermione. Hello, earth to Hermione,” she called.

Hermione snapped out of her trance and looked accusingly at her parents. “I knew you were planning something,” she said, her voice seething with anger.

“Sweetie, don’t get upset. We just want you to do well at the Ministry, and your non-attendance is affecting your chances of promotion,” her mother said soothingly.

Hermione stomped her foot like a little child. “I don’t want to go! I hate stupid crap like that.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Hermione Jean Granger, you went once! Now stop whining like a little baby and get that backside up those stairs. I have work to do.”

“Why should I?” she asked with a pout.

“Don’t make me force you. I think we all learnt at the opening game of the season how puny your physical strength is,” the redhead threatened.

Hermione bowed her head in defeat. She looked briefly towards her dad; she had vague hopes that he would step in and throw Ginny out. But he was still too busy chuckling over the plight of Malfoy. Besides, he adored Ginny. Her shoulders slumped and she walked dejectedly over to the door.

“Hermione, you may want to _Ennervate_ Malfoy,” Ginny called after her.

Hermione felt like rebelling for a moment and leaving him stunned. But knew that if she didn’t do it, Ginny would and then there would be even more hell to pay for. She flicked her wand over her shoulder, and Draco sat up, rubbing his head to see his date disappearing out of the door. 

Rachel fluttered over. “Oh, Draco, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t think Hermione would react that way but we didn’t want to give her any warning because she would probably hole up in that flat of hers and refuse to come out.”

Draco groaned as a headache thumped at the back of his mind. He felt around the back of his head and found a lump the size of an egg. 

“I’ll get you some ice for that,” Rachel said, leaving Draco under the amused gaze of Matthew Granger.

Draco shifted a little uncomfortably. Hermione’s giant of a father made him feel incredibly awkward - he knew that Matthew had not warmed up to him. And whilst Matthew may not be physically harming him but that didn’t mean that the older man didn’t want to. Draco hadn’t forgotten the menacing look he’d given him the first time they’d met. 

Rachel ran back in, handed Draco an ice pack and ran back out again. He heard her feet thudding up the stairs. 

He eyed the ice pack in confusion, not knowing what to do with it. This made Matthew guffaw even more, which was starting to get annoying now. He fingered his wand with intent.

“You put the ice over the bump on the back of your head,” the other man finally pointed out.

The blond did as instructed and groaned with relief as it made the throbbing pain numb. 

“Thanks,” he replied, getting to his feet and brushing his cloak and robes off. 

He’d gone for a severe black look as Ginny had refused to give him any details on Hermione’s dress robes.

“Right, Malfoy, sit there,” Matthew said, pointing out an armchair. “You and I are going to have a little chat.”

Draco gulped slightly at this. He’d been expecting it. Matthew came across as the kind of father who would want to lay some rules down before his daughter disappeared out the door – well, fireplace – with him. It didn’t make the ex-rugby player any less intimidating.

“What are your intentions towards my daughter?” the hulking man asked.

Draco ran a finger around his collar. He didn’t even really know what his intentions were towards Hermione. “Er… good,” he said hesitantly.

Matthew frowned at the uncomfortable man. “Good? That’s it. You don’t know if you want to date her or just be friends?”

He was starting to sweat now. “I’d like to date her if you would allow that, sir.”

“And if Hermione is amenable to dating you, how will you treat her?”

“Like a princess,” he replied automatically.

Matthew scoffed. “How pathetically predictable. Did you read that in the How to Deal with Difficult Fathers Handbook? How do I know you won’t mock her or decrease her self-esteem any further?”

Draco was not enjoying this. He’d never had to persuade a disapproving father that he was suitable before. Usually, fathers were throwing their pure-blood daughters at him, keenly eying up his riches. Never had he such an uncomfortable interview (for that’s what it was) with someone who was clearly enjoying making him squirm.

“I have liked your daughter for a long time. I deeply regret all the pain I’ve put her through. I appreciate her sharp wit and admire her intelligence. She’s loyal to her friends and committed to her work. She’s fiery and passionate and very beautiful. If she were to date me then I would be keen to let her know all these things.”

“It’s good to see that you have picked up on those qualities that make my Hermione unique. It’s better than any of her previous deadbeat boyfriends have managed. I’ll give you my permission to woo her, but if you step one foot out of line, I’ll make sure you won’t be able grasp your wand again,” Matthew threatened.

Rachel’s voice floated down from upstairs, calling Matthew to come and help her reach something. He got up and walked towards the door. 

“One more thing, boy: Get my daughter drunk again and I’ll have your guts for garters. I’ll be waiting up for her to return home tonight.”

Draco nodded, keen for the intimidating older man to leave the room. He felt drained after that ‘conversation’ and hadn’t even spoken to Hermione yet. But he had no doubts that she was going to be just as difficult tonight. She’d been ambushed and wasn’t going to be pleased with anyone and he knew that meant he was going to be the one who bore the brunt of her bad mood. It was tough being in love with a sharp-tongued harpy.

\--------

Upstairs, Hermione was just about bearing the prods and pulls of both Ginny and her mum who were trying to tame her hair.

“I give up,” Ginny said, throwing her hands in the air. “How do you ever manage to do anything with this wild mess?”

Hermione smugly eyed her friend in the mirror. She, of course, knew best how to deal with her hair but she wasn’t helping - in protest at their actions. 

Rachel had been rummaging around in her bathroom, looking for some kind of magic cure but had come back empty-handed. “I still can’t believe you inherited my aunt Emmeline’s hair. She always was a vindictive cow and she hated me,” she moaned.

Ginny had now moved on to Hermione’s face and was currently smoothing foundation onto her skin. Hermione bore with the ministrations, knowing that it was better to be still and quiet. She wouldn’t put it past Ginny to tie her to the chair. Besides, her hair was making more than enough of the protest for her. 

Ginny finally finished and let Hermione look into the mirror. She had to admit that no-one applied make-up better than Ginny, who had decided to emphasise her eyes, which were enormous and sultry with smoky eye shadow. Just a hint of blusher on her cheeks and a tint of pink lip-gloss completed the look. 

Whilst Hermione had been admiring the effect, Ginny had unzipped the dress bag and was now flourishing a beautiful dress in Hermione’s face. It was knee-length with a small plunging neckline. It was mainly black with thick straps but had a pink sash and a pink hem, lined with embroidered black flowers. It wasn’t overly flashy, but was elegant and a little girly. Hermione immediately fell in love with it. 

“Oh Ginny! It’s gorgeous.”

Ginny smiled. “Yes it is, and it took me all day to find it. So sort that sorry excuse for hair out and get yourself in it. I have to get ready to knock Blaise’s socks off.”

“I thought you’d already done that in the Slytherin dorms,” she teased.

Ginny blushed a little but smiled back.

\-------

Draco was now officially bored. What were those blasted girls doing? How long did it take to put a dress on? Then he remembered the state Hermione’s hair had been in and grinned. The three of them were probably wrestling with the scary mess. Maybe it had them all pinned up against the wall.

He spent the rest of his wait amusing himself with thoughts of Hermione’s hair taking the leading role in famous battles from history. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He stood up and went into the small hallway, knowing that his mother always got prickly unless he and Severus were there to meet her and appreciate her efforts to look good. 

Rachel emerged first looking a little misty eyed, whilst Matthew followed her closely down, looking slightly grumpy and shooting him menacing stares. Ginny was the next one down. She was looking gorgeous in green with her long, red hair flowing down her back and pinned off her face.

“Looking good, Red,” Malfoy said. “You clean up well for a Weasley.”

Ginny tossed her hair in his face. “See you later. As much as I’d like to see you drool, I’ve got a date to go pick up.” 

He sniggered. “Now I know who wears the trousers in your relationship. Make sure you bring something pretty for Blaise to wear.”

Ginny glared at him but couldn’t keep up the façade and ended up giggling as she left. 

Draco was left staring up the stairs. He could hear some fumbling and wished Hermione would hurry up and come down. It couldn’t be that bad. Although, thinking about it, Draco didn’t think he’d ever seen her in a skirt outside of Hogwarts. 

After a few more seconds of rustling, Hermione finally started to descend and Draco cursed inwardly as his mouth dropped at the sight she made. Her hair had been tamed and was elegantly pulled up. Her dress made the most of her figure but in a classy way. It wasn’t until his eyes reached Hermione’s feet that he burst out laughing.

“What?” she scowled as she came to rest on the bottom stair. 

Her embarrassment at being face-to-face with Malfoy again disappeared in her annoyance at his reaction. Did she really look that ridiculous when she dressed up?

Rachel was giving the blond confused looks whilst Matthew looked like he wanted to deck him. 

“I think you forgot something,” he said pointing at the fuzzy slippers Hermione was still wearing. 

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, flushing.

“Ginny did let me see the shoes she picked out, so I know those are definitely not them,” he said. 

He summoned her shoes with a quick Accio, holding one out for Hermione to put her foot in. 

Hermione blushed even harder as she realised Malfoy was planning on putting the shoes on her feet himself. She stepped out of her slippers and into the high-heels. Her mum sighed wistfully behind him whilst she refused to look at anyone, especially her mum, who was acting as if it was Hermione’s wedding day and not some stupid Christmas party she was being forced into attending. 

She finally put her hand on Malfoy’s arm as he escorted her over to the fireplace. 

“How does it feel knowing that I paid for everything you’re wearing, Kitten?” he asked with a lecherous wink.

Hermione groaned and whacked him on the arm with her clutch bag. “Get your mind out the gutter, Malfoy.”

But she couldn’t help but smile at him. She knew he’d said it to give her a chance to hit him and put herself at ease.


	21. Chapter 21

Harry was sitting with Daphne, Adrian, Robert and his date in the ballroom that the Ministry for Magic had rented for their Christmas Ball. He couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Ron being coerced around the dance floor by his date, Eve Marling. Ron hadn’t changed from the fourteen-year-old boy who had scowled his way through the Yule Ball. He still hated dancing. But unlike Padma Patil, Eve was attractive enough for him to humour her desire to dance. He was doing a pretty bad job of it, though, which was making Harry snigger.

“I don’t know why you are giggling like a four-year-old little girl, Harry. The only reason why you’re not up on the dance floor and being led around like an overdressed monkey is because Daphne values her toes,” Adrian said mockingly.

Harry scowled at his work colleague. “No, that’s not true. Daphne doesn’t like dancing either, do you, love?” he asked his fiancée.

“Er…” she said, clearly not wanting to lie or hurt Harry’s feelings. 

“Come on, Daphne, let’s show this Chosen One how Slytherins dance,” Adrian said, holding his hand out and leading Daphne onto the dance floor, where he twirled her elegantly.

“Show-off,” Harry mumbled.

Robert just laughed and went to grab his date from the bar before highlighting that Ravenclaws could dance well, too. Harry moped at the table, feeling more than a little abandoned. Usually he and Ron came to these functions together. This was the first year he’d been able to bring Daphne properly as, although Hermione didn’t attend, she would have heard all about Harry’s Slytherin date on the Ministry gossip grapevine. 

Harry spied Angelina returning from where she had been chatting to friends and grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the dance floor. He’d show that cheeky Slytherin.

“Er… Harry do you think this is a good idea?” Angelina asked. “I remember Parvati complaining for days about the bruises you left on her feet during the Yule Ball and that was just one dance.”

“That was those stupid Durmstrang boys. Besides, that was a decade ago. I’m sure I’m better at dancing now.”

Angelina grimaced slightly but saw Adrian dancing with Daphne and decided that she could steer Harry that way and grab her infinitely more co-ordinated date and leave Harry’s two left feet to the woman who loved him.

\---------

Hermione couldn’t help but feel a little nervous about walking into the main ballroom. The last one of these things she attended had been just after the war where once more Ron had managed to ruin her night. He hadn’t argued with her about her date because he had been her date. No, he’d got rip-roaringly drunk and puked all over her instead. The two balls she’d been to had seen her leaving the ballroom in tears and trying her hardest to stop herself from hexing Ron out of sheer anger.

Malfoy squeezed her hand. “Why are you nervous?” he asked.

“I’m not good at these things. The only two balls I’ve been at were a complete disaster.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say the Yule Ball was bad. You had the whole male population of Hogwarts panting after you,” Malfoy told her.

Hermione looked up at him in shock. 

“Yep, even the Slytherins,” he confirmed with a laugh.

Hermione snorted at that. “Please. As if you lot would have gotten over your blood prejudice to even admit I was a little bit attractive.”

Malfoy leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You’d be surprised. Many a Slytherin boy’s heart was torn that night. You were Muggle-born but you looked absolutely gorgeous.”

Hermione blushed a little. Her fifteen-year-old self could have done with knowing that. She probably wouldn’t have been so shy at letting Ron know her feelings then. But then again, that relationship hadn’t turned out too well so it was probably a good thing it hadn’t happened before the Great Battle. 

Malfoy’s voice dropped a little lower as he breathed in her ear. “But not as stunning as you look tonight.”

Hermione looked up into his face and blushed even harder when she saw the desire in his eyes. She felt short of breath and couldn’t help but lean a little into him and he in turn lowered his head slightly.

“There you are, Draco, you prick! I take it I have you to blame for this?” Blaise snapped from behind them.

Malfoy swore under his breath and Hermione regained control of her senses. What the hell was she thinking? She didn’t even have the excuse of having had anything to drink. She and Malfoy both turned to face Blaise who was storming their way with a giggling Ginny in tow. Hermione couldn’t help but gasp and then burst into laughter as she saw the posy of flowers Blaise had in his hand.

“Nice choice, Weaselette,” Draco drawled.

“Why did my date – my _female_ date – turn up at my flat with flowers for me to hold during the ball?” Blaise fumed.

“Come now, Blaise. We all know who wears the trousers in your relationship and it isn’t you. Besides, you always were a feminine boy,” Malfoy teased. 

Hermione had never seen a huge amount of emotion of Blaise Zabini’s face. He prided himself on being aloof from everyone and had the Slytherin trait of finding emotion a little too messy. But right now, he was raging mad and it showed. He looked as if steam would come out of his ears at any second. 

“I’m going to kill you!” he yelled as he lunged towards Malfoy, who quickly darted behind Hermione, cravenly hiding from the consequences of the obviously silly idea he’d planted in Ginny’s head.

Hermione’s third formal party was saved from being another total disaster by Ginny grabbing onto Blaise’s robes. “Don’t you dare take another step towards Hermione,” Ginny growled. “I did not spend hours this evening getting her ready, not to mention the whole day I spent in Malfoy’s company with him moaning and whining, for you to ruin everything in a second.”

Blaise took a few seconds to breathe deeply and get his temper back under control. “Now who’s being the girl in your relationship,” Blaise growled.

“Excuse me, are you trying to say that girls are weak and incapable of handling themselves?” Ginny objected.

“You better explain yourself, Zabini. I took on fully grown Death Eaters when you were still mastering basic defensive spells,” Hermione fumed.

Blaise looked a little embarrassed when confronted by two such powerful magical humans, who also happened to be female. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You better not have. I will not date a sexist who thinks women are weak in any way, shape or form,” Ginny fumed.

“Sweetheart, you are so formidable that you scare the largest wizard on his best day,” Blaise back-tracked quickly.

Malfoy just smirked from his vantage point behind Hermione. “Mate, this is Hermione Granger. Only an idiot would not hide behind her.”

“Whatever,” Blaise snarled before stalking off into the ballroom. 

“Those flowers suit you, by the way. They highlight your eyes. Ginny picked out your colours,” Malfoy called out to the rapidly disappearing Slytherin.

“Prat,” Ginny said, whacking Malfoy’s shoulder.

“Careful, Weasley, I’m on date with Granger. Only she gets to handle the goods. I’m a one-woman kind of man,” he teased. 

“Like I’d want to touch you, Ferret,” Hermione sniped good-naturedly. 

“Hey, don’t dash my hopes just yet. I asked the barman especially to make some Slytherin’s Revenge for you.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but for once refused to rise to the bait. “You better worry about your own Slytherin’s Revenge because Blaise doesn’t look like a very happy bunny.”

Malfoy nodded his head towards Ginny. “I’m relying on Red here. She’ll soften him up later for me.”

“That depends, Malfoy. What are you going to do for me?” 

“Let’s just say I may have sorted out the Holyhead Harpies sponsorship problems. The team will be able to afford the latest Firebolt after all,” he informed her.

Ginny squealed and jumped up and down. “Do you mean it?”

He nodded and found himself with an armful of over-enthusiastic redhead. “Hey,” he complained. “What did I say about handling the goods? Only Granger here gets to man-handle me.”

Ginny let go, grinning from ear to ear. She pushed Hermione towards Malfoy. “You heard the man,” she said. “Go snog him for me.”

Hermione shot her friend an annoyed glance. Ginny knew how sensitive she was feeling about that whole incident and to bring it up like that was mean. 

“I’ll settle for a dance,” Malfoy said, obviously reading how uncomfortable she was. 

She sent him a grateful look but missed the collaborative wink he sent Ginny, who went on her merry way to charm her date back into a good mood. Her work was done for now and Hermione was feeling a lot more welcoming towards Malfoy.

\-------

Narcissa Snape viewed her handiwork with a pleased eye. She and Severus had come to the party whilst Draco had Flooed over to the Grangers to surprise and coerce Hermione to attend. She watched as her son led the brunette onto the floor and started to waltz with her elegantly.

As usual with these events, the dancing started off very conservatively to please all those in attendance who complained about new fangled music. As a Malfoy, Draco was expected to shine at such events and Lucius had made sure that he had been given dancing lessons as a child. She smiled as remembered how much her son had hated them. He’d sulked and thrown tantrum after tantrum to try and get them cancelled. But Lucius had held firm. It was not acceptable for a Malfoy to be in any way socially inept at something. Draco certainly didn’t look like he minded the lessons now as he expertly led Hermione around the dance floor. 

Narcissa sighed at the sight and Severus looked towards her. “What has you acting so sentimental, Cissa?” he asked.

She pointed towards Draco and Hermione. “Don’t they look so perfect together?” 

Her husband rolled his eyes. “At least she’s got that hair of hers under control. I must admit, I am surprised you are encouraging this infatuation of Draco’s. I would’ve thought you’d do anything to keep that hair out of your family line. Imagine if your grandchild inherited it.”

Narcissa giggled a little and lightly smacked Severus on the arm. “Stop it, Severus. I know you are fonder of the girl than you like to admit. How could you not be with that brain of hers?”

Severus scowled a little. “I am not fond of insufferable little know-it-alls like Miss Granger.”

She shot him a knowing look. “Of course you aren’t, darling. And you would never have wanted her in Slytherin House.”

Severus obviously decided that dancing would shut his too shrewd wife up and led her out onto the floor. She demurred and happily steered them towards Draco and Hermione.

“Darlings,” she gushed as they came upon them. “You just look divine together. Hermione, you are ravishing tonight.”

Narcissa liked the fact that the former Gryffindor could still blush at compliments. It meant that she didn’t expect them as many other women of her age did. Most of the females that Draco had escorted to these events before had very much expected to be told how beautiful they looked. They’d also expected a proposal to become the next Mrs. Malfoy and she had been increasingly happy that Draco had ploughed his own furrow and not bowed to the dictates of his Malfoy ancestry. 

She kissed Hermione and then Draco before whispering in her son’s ear, “Make sure you don’t mess this evening up. She’ll never forgive you if you make any more mistakes with her.”

Draco shot his mother a glare before shooing her off so he could go back to dancing with Hermione.

\--------

Harry had to admit that this dancing lark wasn’t too bad as long as it was in the arms of the woman you loved. They’d been dancing for several songs now and he didn’t feel bored or self-conscious. He was happy to be spending this time with Daphne. Then he felt someone violently poking his shoulder.

“Harry! Merlin, Harry! Have you seen this?” Ron asked, clearly worked up about something.

Harry frowned. “What, Ron?”

Ron just pointed a couple out across the dance floor. Harry saw that it was at Malfoy. “It’s just Draco. So what? He comes every year.”

His friend pushed Harry’s head to look harder. “I know you wear glasses but try not to be so blind. Check out who Malfoy’s date is.”

Harry peered across at the girl and his mouth dropped as he realised it was Hermione. “Hermione? What? How did he get her to come?” 

“Dunno. She doesn’t even look angry,” Ron commented.

The two boys descended on their best friend. “Hey, Draco, move. We want to dance with Hermione.”

“Really? The three of you? Won’t that be a little awkward?”

“Just move,” Ron said elbowing Malfoy out of the way.

Hermione found herself being dragged off the dance floor by two pairs of hands. “What are you doing here? And with Draco?” Harry asked.

“Have you had something to drink? You’re not drunk, are you?” said Ron.

She rolled her eyes at her ginger-haired friend and ignored his questions. “I was ambushed,” she replied to Harry. “Malfoy colluded with my parents and Ginny.”

Ron leaned in to smell her breath. 

“Ronald, I am not drunk!” she snapped.

Her friend moved back, looking a little abashed. “Sorry, it’s just you’re here voluntarily with Malfoy. I just thought I should check in case you try and jump him on the dance floor.”

“Honestly, Ronald, your lack of faith in me is insulting.”

“So you aren’t avoiding Draco anymore,” Harry persevered, used to Ron’s left-field questions.

“Well it’s pretty hard to do so when his mother connects my parents’ fireplace to the Floo network and he turns up in the front room.”

“Rachel is still friends with Narcissa Snape then? Weird,” Ron said.

Both Harry and Hermione ignored him. “He did always make it hard to ignore him,” Harry remarked of Draco.

Before anything else was said, one of the reasons why Hermione usually avoided these events like the plague intruded on their conversation. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, but I really must speak to Miss Granger here.” 

Both men found themselves pushed out the way by two of the boniest elbows to ever exist. A severe old lady peered above her glasses at Hermione. “Miss Granger, I am appalled at your latest legislation. I’ve actually had to free my house-elves in order to avoid the ridiculous fines now being imposed by the Ministry. I really must protest.”

Hermione felt mind-numbing boredom start to in seep through her brain. She hated the fact that she was open for any narrow minded pure-blooded busy-body to come and berate her for wanting just some basic rights for house-elves. 

She was just gearing up to hit the old biddy with facts when a smooth voice interrupted.

“Aunt Araminta, how lovely to see you,” Malfoy drawled in that perfect cut glass accent of his, reminding Hermione that he was related to many of those who made her working life a misery.

“Oh, Draco dear, I haven’t seen you since this event last year. You really should visit with your mother soon.”

Malfoy smiled charmingly at the ancient woman. “I’ll tell Mother that. It would be delightful. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to reclaim my date,” he said, taking Hermione’s hand. 

Mrs. Rosier looked taken aback at that. “You’re escorting Miss Granger here?” 

The way her name was spat, Hermione was under no illusions as to how Mrs. Rosier viewed her and Muggle-borns in general.

“Yes,” Malfoy replied. “She was kind enough to take pity on me and agree to be my date tonight.”

“What must your mother think of that? Shouldn’t you be courting a different style of girl? One of those Greengrass girls for instance? Although not the oldest, I hear she’s got herself mixed up with that Potter boy. Shame really.”

Hermione could see Harry bristling behind Mrs. Rosier but before Harry could intervene, Malfoy decided to show his teeth. “My mother is close friends with Hermione’s mother so she is thrilled I’m escorting her here tonight. And you should know that we Malfoys do what we please.” He bowed his head slightly and swept Hermione off in style back to the dance floor.

“Should I be swooning and crying “my hero” right about now?” Hermione asked, amused.

He grinned down at her. “I thought you could do with rescuing before you hexed her and ended up in Azkaban.”

“She did come pretty close to finding herself in the Body-Bind Curse. Although I think she still might be in danger. Harry looks like he’s going to explode any minute and the last time he did that, he inflated his aunt.”

Malfoy’s eyebrow rose in surprise and Hermione filled him in on Harry’s Aunt Marge and how she’d had to be Obliviated just before their third year at Hogwarts. He was laughing hard by the end of story. 

“Not that she didn’t deserve it, that nasty cow,” Hermione commented.

Malfoy felt a tap on his shoulder and looked round to find to Adrian Pucey. “Draco, if you don’t mind, I’d like to cut in and steal your delectable date for a dance.”

Malfoy smirked down at Hermione. “See, I told you the Slytherin boys had a thing for you at dances, Kitten.”

She reddened a little but smiled at Pucey as he swept her away from the blond. 

“How come you wanted to dance with me?” she asked. “I don’t think we’ve ever exchanged more than a few words.”

Pucey grinned. “Ah, but now I can tell my grandkids that I danced with the Hermione Granger and she didn’t hex me.”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile at that.

\-----

Draco leant against the wall and watched as Hermione danced with the Slytherins present. It was a bizarre sight as he watched her energetically dancing with Theo Nott. If anyone had told him back at the Halloween Quidditch game that he would be escorting Hermione Granger to the Ministry Christmas Party and that she’d willingly be dancing with practically every Slytherin present, he would have had them committed to St. Mungo’s for lunacy. It was amazing the difference a few months could make. Now all he had to do was get her to admit that she wanted to kiss him again.

“You’re looking pretty pleased with yourself,” Daphne said as she approached with Pansy in tow. “Well done on getting Hermione to come.”

“Yes, how did you manage that?” Pansy asked.

“Let’s just say Mother may no longer have Malfoy as her surname but she’s still just as sneaky.”

“And she’s married to Severus. He double crossed Voldemort for years and managed to live to tell the tale. That’s pretty cunning,” Daphne pointed out.

Draco bowed his head in acknowledgement. He continued to gaze at Hermione.

“She looks amazing,” Pansy commented cheekily. 

“He’s lusting after her more than he did during the Yule Ball,” Daphne mentioned conversationally.

“Tell me about it. I almost killed him that night. He was my date, yet he stood there staring after Granger like a gormless goon all night,” Pansy replied.

“I can still hear you both,” Draco said.

“I’m surprised,” Pansy responded. “I thought you may have gone deaf, dumb and blind from the sheer gloriousness of Granger.”

He rolled his eyes but looked away from his date and instead focused on his two friends. “Happy now?” he asked.

“At least we rate your attention,” Daphne said. “So how is Operation Woo Hermione going?”

Draco sighed. “Well, she no longer hates me and the Weaselette says that she has a crush on me but I don’t think she’s aware of it.”

Pansy sniggered. “It’s so refreshing to see that the Malfoy charm isn’t infallible.”

“You’ve been hanging around Weasleys for too long. They’re rubbing off on you,” he said cuttingly. 

“You’re just jealous because George will kiss me without the aide of alcohol.” 

“If you want to kiss overgrown ginger oafs then that’s completely up to you,” Draco sneered.

“Envy doesn’t suit you, Draco,” Pansy teased.

He grunted before going back to watching Hermione, who was now dancing with Blaise and smoothing his ruffled feathers by the look of it.

\---------

Hermione was enjoying herself hugely. If she’d known that it would be this fun she would have started coming years ago. Mind you, if she had come then she would have most likely spent the night glowering at the Slytherins present and trying to persuade Harry to arrest them. She was feeling quite grateful to Rowena Ravenclaw and her curse. If it hadn’t have been activated then she would have been stuck continuing to bury her issues and not getting help.

Despite the trauma, especially in the early days, she was feeling more balanced and content than she had for years. And dancing with Slytherins was infinitely preferable to Ron and Harry, who, bless them, didn’t have an ounce of rhythm between them. 

Her eyes then strayed towards Malfoy who was leaning against the wall conversing with Daphne and Pansy. Hermione knew the snarky blond so well now that she could tell the two women were teasing him mercilessly about something. He looked annoyed but she knew he’d have that twinkle in his eye that he got when he was teased by those he cared about. It also didn’t escape her notice that he got that look when teasing her. 

Ginny had come to berate Hermione at her office for ignoring Malfoy during the week. The redhead had told her that he had feelings for her and in ignoring him she was being cruel. Personally, she found it a little hard to believe. 

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew that her crush on the blond had rekindled. Except this time it wasn’t just a reaction to his good looks and her disappointment with Ron. This time she actually liked his personality as well. And whilst she wanted to believe that Malfoy felt the same about her, she was too insecure when she thought about it. Did he really get that incredibly tender look in his eyes when he looked at her, or was she just imagining it? 

“Hermione, thank goodness, there you are,” the precise tones of Minerva McGonagall cut through her thoughts. 

She looked away from Malfoy, whom she had been gazing dreamily towards over the Blaise’s shoulder and looked towards Hogwarts’ Headmistress, who was hurrying over to her with unusual haste.

“Ah, Mr. Zabini, this concerns you also. In fact, could you round up those of you who are here who affected by the curse. I need to talk to you all urgently,” McGonagall said.

“Minerva, what’s happened? We broke the curse already, remember?” Hermione said with a frown.

McGonagall just shook her head. “No, you didn’t. You thought you had but I’ve been contacted by Rowena who informs me that you got it wrong and the curse is still in effect.”

Hermione’s head spun for a minute. Damn, just as she had been coming to terms with her feelings, the curse was back, hanging over them all like a harbinger of doom.


	22. Chapter 22

Minerva McGonagall looked sadly around at the group of ex-students gathered in her hastily convened meeting. She’d borrowed a nearby conference room and those involved had fled the Ministry Christmas Party to hear what she had to say. They looked worried, too. She was upset to have to give them this news as she’d been so proud when they’d seemingly figured out the curse and broken it. 

She’d been even more pleased when that hadn’t broken the newly formed bonds between them. In fact, it had seemed to bring some of them closer together. For example, Pansy Parkinson sat with her head resting on George Weasley’s shoulder with his arm wrapped around her. Minerva had never thought that that pairing would be so felicitous when it had been drawn out of the Sorting Hat. But her eyes strayed mainly towards Hermione Granger, who was sitting upright with anxious eyes. Her right hand was clasped tightly by Draco Malfoy, who was shooting her concerned looks. He was obviously worried about the effect this news was having on her and Minerva was fairly astounded at how close the pair of them had become. It was heart-warming. She hadn’t imagined when she’d taught them that such a situation would ever occur. 

However, they weren’t gathered for her to observe how much they had all grown as people since they were her students. 

She cleared her throat. “I am sorry to drag you all away from the party but I thought you’d want to hear this as soon as possible.”

There was nodded agreement around the room.

“I was contacted by Rowena Ravenclaw earlier this evening,” she started, “who informed me that whilst you are on the right track regarding the curse, you haven’t met the right conditions to break it.”

“Well, what are these right conditions? I mean, we got a Gryffindor and a Slytherin together who are in love. Surely that should prove that the two houses don’t hate each other as much as they did,” George called out.

“I know, and I really thought that would be the end of it, too. But apparently, whilst you had the right idea, this particular partnership didn’t match the criteria that Rowena set.”

“That’s rubbish,” Ron huffed. He stood a lot to lose if this curse couldn’t be broken. He really liked Eve but would have to marry Tracey Davis unless they could meet the ridiculously strict rules apparently set by Ravenclaw.

“I know, Ron, and I do appreciate how frustrated this must make you all. I admit that I too was irritated when it was explained to me. But Rowena has stressed that it’s not as if Gryffindor and Slytherin partnerships haven’t been formed in the past - they’ve just not had any real impact on the rivalry between the two houses,” she explained.

“But she said that we had the right idea?” Hermione asked.

“Yes. In fact, I believe she was fairly impressed with how much you as a group have managed to work together with this.”

Hermione zoned out as the rest of the group furiously discussed the implications of McGonagall’s news. Now they had received this information, she had a very firm idea of what the curse actually needed in order to be broken, but wasn’t keen to share it just yet. She wanted to speak to Bill first. She also had another reason for not wanting to reveal the direction her mind was going along just yet. It would be premature for a start, but she also wasn’t prepared for the pressure that would be put on her and very much hoped that Bill would shoot her idea out of the water.

She felt Malfoy squeeze her hand and pulled herself out of her thoughts. It wouldn’t be good to act so distant. Whilst others might think it was only her anxiety about the fact that the curse hadn’t been broken, Ron and Harry would automatically know that she was thinking ideas through her head. They knew her ‘distracted’ look, as they called it, all too well. 

There wasn’t much more to discuss and a very depressed group returned to the ball. No-one really wanted to stay and party now, but they didn’t really want to go home on such a depressing note. 

“Anyone fancy coming back to Malfoy Manor for tea?” Malfoy suggested. 

“Sounds like a plan, Draco,” Pucey said. 

“I’ll just check to see if Mother is still here.” 

He reappeared after ten minutes. 

“They’ve gone back to the Manor,” he informed the group who were now ready and waiting. 

Draco led them through the Ministry back to the main lobby where they travelled over to the Manor.

“There you are, Draco,” his mother greeted them. “I wondered where you had all disappeared to.”

“McGonagall wanted to speak to us. She had to inform us that the curse hasn’t been broken after all.”

Hermione noticed the quick glance that both Malfoy and Narcissa gave her at this news but she pretended not to have done so. She didn’t want anyone calling her out and asking for her opinion. Not until she’d thought things through. 

“That’s a shame. Are you going to try and break it again? You’re more than welcome to meet here at any time,” Narcissa volunteered.

“We haven’t really had time to discuss our next move. We came straight here after speaking to McGonagall,” Malfoy said.

Narcissa just nodded once more, shooting Hermione a little glance.

“Well, I’ll go get some tea,” Narcissa said. “Hermione, would you like to come and help me? I know Coco would like to see you again.”

There was no way she was getting out of this and to appear hesitant would only cause more suspicions. “That would be lovely, thank you, Mrs Snape.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Narcissa? Besides, Mrs Snape sounds so strange. I’m still not used to it.”

“That’s because Malfoy is such a distinguished name. How can any other live up to it?” Malfoy called after them.

Narcissa rolled her eyes and smiled over at Hermione. “You’d think Draco would have got over all his pride over his name by now but no, he’s just like his father in that respect.”

Hermione couldn’t help the stiffening of her shoulders at this and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Not like that, dear. I just meant in the arrogance stakes. I think Draco soon learnt that all his father’s ideals about pure-bloods and Muggles were off the scale when the reality of war hit him.”

“Sorry, it just takes some getting used to.”

The older woman patted her arm. “Now, are you going to tell me what has you so thoughtful tonight?”

Hermione internally groaned. She didn’t want to have this conversation right now. “Oh, it’s just the curse. I had hoped that we’d no longer have it hanging over us but now it’s back and it’s depressing.”

“Of course it is, but try not to worry too much. I have every faith that you will break it. And then my Draco can woo you properly without there being any threat of dire consequences over the pair of you.”

Hermione stopped still in the corridor just outside the kitchen. “What do you mean?” she asked.

Narcissa smiled kindly at the curly-haired witch. “I know Draco better than anyone else, probably including himself. He’s had a crush on you for a long time. It wasn’t anything more than an attraction whilst you were at school, but I believe that during the last year of the war it developed into something more for him.”

“But that makes no sense,” she objected.

“When does attraction make sense?”

Hermione had no answer to that because she’d found herself attracted to Draco back in their sixth-year when he continued to throw insults at her and was a Death Eater, although she hadn’t been aware of that. 

“But why during that last year of the war?” 

The blonde witch looked at her analytically. “I don’t think you realise how incredibly brave you came across in this house. There you were being brutalised by my sister and you didn’t cave. I don’t know anyone who could’ve held out, except possibly Harry Potter himself.”

Hermione looked down. It felt strange and weird to be discussing this with the sister of the woman who had tortured her and in the same house. 

“Don’t say anything. I wanted to let you know that Draco has very deep feelings for you. He isn’t one to admit them and probably has been useless at showing them, but he cares a lot. I know this isn’t the same for you but I wanted to say something in case you are prepared to give him a chance, even on the off chance that you don’t manage to break that curse. Also, I hope you aren’t angry with me for linking your parents’ fireplace to the Floo network. I like Rachel a lot but Muggle transport really isn’t my forte.”

Hermione appreciated the change of subject, especially as she’d just been hit with an overload of information when it came to Malfoy. She wasn’t sure she would be able to process any of it until she was alone and able to think without distractions. Then there was the matter of the curse. It was all very complicated.

\--------

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione returned with platters of sandwiches, cakes and a tea tray levitating behind her. Narcissa had decided to leave them to it, disappearing off to more private quarters after giving her a kiss on the cheek.

She smiled as the usual suspects – okay, just Ron – raided the platters as if they hadn’t eaten for months. It was soon decided that they would look to meet up here next Saturday evening as Malfoy Manor had a massive library and of course, access to Tufty, who had already provided much needed information about house-elf magic. 

Soon it was just Hermione and Draco left and she was clutching her teacup as if it was a lifeline. The blond had to smile a little at this. He wasn’t going to jump her, although he really wouldn’t mind if she went down the route. He spoke to her about random things that got her to relax slightly. 

“Thanks for the tea and venue offer, Malfoy,” Hermione said. “I reckon I should get back now. If I know my dad he’s pacing the floor, waiting for my return.”

Draco would bet the contents of his Gringotts vault that Matthew would be staring at the clock, willing Hermione home. “Why don’t you come and have a look at the library first?” he asked. “You haven’t seen it yet.”

He smiled fondly as she got visibly excited at that prospect and led her through the house until they reached the corner the library was situated in. He opened the doors and stood back as she walked in and stood in the middle of the room and gazed around. 

He was immune to the library, having grown up with it but watching her reaction to it reminded him of how impressive it was. The walls were lined with bookshelves and there were islands of stacks that were organised by subject matter. The most-used section of the library by far was the Potions section. Severus and Draco had added quite a lot of material to that part. 

Hermione traipsed over the nearest stacks of books and lovingly ran her fingers over the tomes all dealing with Charms. 

“This place is amazing,” she said, turning around to face him.

“You’re welcome to come here whenever you want,” he offered.

“Don’t say that, you’ll never get rid of me,” she said teasingly.

Draco didn’t respond as he realised that he actually didn’t want to get rid of her. She could live in his library for all he cared, especially if it would mean that he got to see her every day. He was fed up of having to skirt around her and wanted to just come out and declare that he loved her but knew that would completely freak her out and she would run a mile. He was going to have to do this slowly and hope that once she came to trust him, she would also come to love him. It wasn’t guaranteed but at least he knew that she was attracted to him.

He would have been a lot happier if he knew what a struggle she was having in pulling herself away and it wasn’t only because of the library. She enjoyed moments like this with Malfoy. He wasn’t being snarky, she wasn’t reacting and they were just comfortable in each other’s company. It was nice, not an emotion that she would have ever thought to associate with him but that’s exactly what it was. 

She perused the library for a bit longer before coming across a book she’d been desperate to get hold of for years but had had no luck in finding. It went out of print sometime in the seventeenth century. She whirled to face Malfoy. “You have De Montfort’s History of Merlin,” she said in shock.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Not even Hogwarts has this,” she said stroking the book as if this would somehow duplicate it.

“I know,” Malfoy replied. “My father acquired it some years ago, and, no, I don’t know how, and I’m not particularly sure I want to know either.”

“It’s meant to reveal secrets about Merlin and Morgana Le Fey that no one knew,” she said in awe.

He nodded. “I read it. I’m not sure I believe what De Montfort is claiming but if it’s true, it is fascinating.”

Hermione sighed. She was desperate to read this but if she had it in her collection then she would never let it leave her home. Maybe Malfoy would let her come back to read it one day. She placed it back where she had found it. 

“I better go,” she said, her fingers lingering on the tome as if reluctant to let go.

He held out his arm. “I’ll escort you back.”

“You don’t have to. Well, actually, you need to escort me back to the parlour because I’ll get lost in this huge mansion. But otherwise, you don’t need to see me home. It’s fireplace-to-fireplace after all,” she said, feeling a little self-conscious again.

He rolled his eyes at her. “I know you’re used to Potter and Weasley but give me some credit. You are my date and I always see my dates home.”

“And into their beds probably,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

Hermione blushed. She really hoped he hadn’t heard that. “Nothing,” she said trying to look innocent but probably just looking guiltier.

They stumbled out of the fireplace in the Grangers’ front room. “I really don’t think the Floo network is designed for two people to travel in at the same time,” she said, brushing her shoulders free of the soot.

The blond shrugged his shoulders. “You’d be surprised at what goes on in the Floo Network. Some of the stories I’ve heard have been pretty incredulous.”

“I _really_ don't want to know.”

Malfoy smirked at her. “No, it was Adrian Pucey who told me those stories. He gets up to some seriously deprived stuff. Thinking about it, he and Angelina are probably very well suited.”

“I had a really good time tonight,” she said, bringing the subject back to them.

“What? Despite the fact that we found out that the curse wasn’t really broken?”

“Yes, even factoring that in. I don’t normally enjoy those parties, but it was fun.”

He ran a finger down her cheek. “I’m glad. I had fun too. Usually, I’m roped into to attending with Mother. Severus slithers out of attending almost as regularly as you do.”

Hermione felt her cheeks reddening under Malfoy’s touch. She felt as if she was losing control over her body these days, especially where the tall blond was concerned. He was saying something to her but she was paying no attention. Instead, she was gazing at his mouth like it was water and she’d been stranded in a desert for the best part of a month. She didn’t know what made her do it but she leaned into him, reached up onto her tip-toes and pressed her lips against his. Her body seemed to melt at the touch of his lips. They really were ridiculously soft and enticing. His arm snaked around her waist and she was pulled closer to him as he deepened the kiss. 

She mewed a little as he pulled away. 

“Are you going to freak out and run away this time?” he asked. “Because if so, we probably should stop this right now.”

Hermione was finding it difficult to speak. She really didn’t like feeling this girly around him. She had a larger brain than his, even if it did desert her when she got too close to him. So she settled for shaking her head and leaning towards him again. He smiled down at her before pulling her back in, ready to kiss her thoroughly.

The kissing pair were in their own little world, unheeding of what was around them, when the overhead light came snapped on. Hermione, half blinded, jumped away from Malfoy as her father frowned at the scene. 

“I thought I heard you come home, sweetheart,” her dad said, glaring daggers at her date.

Whilst she might be feeling frazzled and embarrassed at being caught making out like a teenager, she couldn’t help but smile smugly at the paler than usual face of Malfoy. It was good to know that he was intimidated by Matthew Granger. Someone needed to rein his arrogance in.

“Er… yeah… hi, Dad,” she said, with all the eloquence of a thirteen-year-old.

“Well, now you have _thanked_ Malfoy for your evening, I think it’s time you found your bed,” her father recommended, pretty much hissing the word thanked out, and daring either of them to suggest that the blond help her up the stairs and tuck her in.

She flushed and waved somewhat haphazardly at Malfoy before fleeing the scene of the crime. 

Draco was left with an angry Matthew Granger. How did you explain to an outraged father that it was his daughter who’d made the move on you, for the second time in a short space of time? At least she wasn’t drunk this time. In fact, he didn’t think she’d had an alcoholic drink all night. However, he didn’t think this would be the best thing to say to the giant with the folded arms currently glowering at him. 

“Well, now I’ve seen Hermione home, I’ll just return to the Manor,” he said instead.

“Not so fast, young man.”

Draco swore under his breath. Well, it had been worth a try. 

“What exactly was that with my daughter?” Matthew asked.

“A goodnight kiss?” Draco suggested a little hesitantly. 

“A ten minute goodnight kiss?”

He bit back the sarcastic retort that was on the tip of his tongue. Antagonising her father really wouldn’t go down too well with Hermione. 

Luckily, it seemed that Matthew didn’t require a reply. “I may have given you permission to date Hermione, if she agreed, but that doesn’t give you the green-light to try and eat her in my front-room.”

Draco wanted to point out that he had refined his kissing style to avoid consuming his dates early on in his love life, but settled for a more respectful reply. “Yes, sir, it won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” Matthew growled before ushering him towards the fireplace.

Draco was happy to be escaping back to Malfoy Manor with all his limbs intact.

\-----------

Hermione fled upstairs and into her room, with her hands pressed over her cheeks. She didn’t understand what was coming over her these days. Her mother was sitting on her bed, waiting for her.

“Have a nice time?” Rachel asked, looking at her daughter’s flushed cheeks in amusement.

She sat down on the bed next to her mother. “Yes, it was a good party.”

Rachel suppressed her smile. She’d held Matthew in check for as long as possible but when it became fairly obvious that the young couple were doing more kissing than talking, her husband had sprinted downstairs to break it up. 

She also knew her daughter wouldn’t spill any beans with out any encouragement. “Is Draco a good kisser, then?” 

Hermione’s head snapped up and she looked at her mum in mortification. “Mum,” she whined. “You can’t ask questions like that.”

“Yes I can, I’m your mother. Besides, you obviously weren’t going to offer up the details.”

Hermione put her hand in her hands and groaned. She loved her mum, she really did, but at times she was too much. This was one of those times. 

“I’m still waiting here, Hermione, unless, of course, you want to have this conversation in front of your dad. He’ll be finished berating poor Draco soon.”

She threw her hands up in despair. “He’s a good kisser. There! Are you happy now?” 

Rachel smiled smugly at her daughter. “Are you dating him now? Officially?” she asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know what’s going on between us. I initiated the kiss - again.”

“You like him,” her mother stated and patted her shoulder.

“I think I more than like him but I don’t know what to do about it. It’s all so complicated. I don’t even know if I want to like him and now the curse is back and the obligation to be together is hanging over us again.”

“The curse is back? I thought you’d broken it.”

“So did I, but Minerva McGonagall came to find us at the party this evening to inform us that it hadn’t been broken after all.”

“So, do you have any ideas on how to do it this time?” Rachel asked.

“Well, Ravenclaw told Minerva that we were on the right track, so at least we don’t have to start our research all over again. Apparently we just had the wrong couple before, which made me think that maybe-” she started before cutting herself off. 

Whilst her mother may not be a witch or very au fait with how magic worked, she still knew where her daughter’s mind was going. “You think that maybe the cure rests with you and Draco.”

Hermione just nodded and looked miserable. 

“Does anyone else suspect that?” Rachel asked.

She pursed her lips. “I think Bill might, especially once he hears that we nearly broke the curse. It won’t take too long for his mind to go down the same route that mine has, but no-one else suspects anything, I’m sure.”

“When are you going to talk to Draco?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m not sure I even want to, but something Narcissa said to be this evening makes me think-,” she said, before cutting herself off again.

Rachel put her arm around her daughter and pulled her in for a hug. “I don’t think Draco will be the problem. Unless I’m very much mistaken, that boy is head over heels in love with you. But I don’t think you are there yet.”

Hermione rested her head on her mum’s shoulder. “I don’t know how I feel,” she confessed. “I never thought I would be so comfortable with him but when it’s the two of us, I am. I’ve always known he’s attractive but his repellent personality overwhelmed any good looks he had, but now he’s changed and my feelings are changing too. I can’t think properly when I’m around him, and I keep doing stupid things like kissing him. And then Narcissa goes and confuses me even more this evening by telling me that Malfoy has always had a thing for me.”

She sniffled slightly and Rachel rubbed comforting circles on her back. “My advice is not to think too hard about this. You should trust your emotions and stop fighting them because you think that that is what makes sense. Don’t make yourself miserable by rejecting him because that is what you think you should be doing. If he has changed then give him another chance, especially if he makes you happy.”

“Why is it all so complicated?”

Her mother smiled. “Because you don’t settle for the easy, Hermione, you never have. If you were going to do that then you would’ve stayed with Ron, no matter how incompatible you were.”

“But why Malfoy? Surely that’s fate just laughing at me.”

“Maybe…or maybe its fate saying that he suits you more than others do. He’s intelligent, quick-witted and he makes your pulse race. Why would you want to settle for something less?”

She shrugged before yawning sleepily. Rachel kissed her forehead before pushing her towards the bathroom. “Now go and get changed and have a good night’s sleep. Your feelings or problems aren’t going away any time soon, so you may as well as put them off until the morning.”

Hermione picked her pyjamas up and headed off to the bathroom. Rachel smiled after her. She was proud of how far her daughter had come in the last couple of months. Now all she had to do was accept what her heart was telling her and open herself up to Draco Malfoy. If she allowed it, they could be very happy together. 

Argumentative, but happy.


	23. Chapter 23

Hermione stretched her body out as she woke up from a good night’s sleep. Despite getting back late and that kiss with Draco Malfoy, she’d tumbled into her bed and fallen straight asleep. 

She smiled as she thought about last night. She’d had a good time - well, minus the bit about the curse, but even that wasn’t getting her down. She felt as if she’d finally come to terms with her feelings for Malfoy. She liked him - potentially more than liked him - and she wasn’t going to run away from her feelings. Her conversation with her mum last night had made her realise how pointless it was to do such a thing. So what if a relationship with Malfoy wasn’t conventional, or what people expected?

She yawned as she settled herself on a chair in the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of tea and sipped it and couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt so at peace. 

“So, am I going to get an explanation about what happened last night?” her dad asked her.

She turned to look at him; he was looking confused by her serene expression and the fact that he’d caught her kissing Malfoy last night. 

“Er… I like Malfoy,” she said, her tone going up at the end making it almost sound like a question.

“Well I kind of gathered that, considering you keep kissing the bloke.”

Hermione smiled at her over-protective father. He’d had it easy recently as her love life had been non-existent. 

“So, are you dating him or not?” Matthew asked impatiently. 

She tilted her head to the side. “Not officially, no, but maybe that will be rectified this week.”

Her dad rolled his eyes. “What happened to you hating him?” he asked, sounding more than a little disappointed.

“He proved that he was different. And despite desperately trying to hold onto my hatred, he broke it down by proving to me that he has changed.”

“Not you as well.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“Being won over by that boy’s charm. At least you lasted longer than your mother did.” 

She giggled slightly. Malfoy hadn’t had to try too hard with her mum. He just had to flash those pearly whites and she’d melted. Mm… thinking of those teeth got her thinking of his lips, and it didn’t take long before she was reliving his kisses. 

“I don’t even want to know where your mind is right now,” her dad said repressively. “But I gave the boy permission to date you.”

She groaned and buried her head in her hands. “Dad! I’m a grown woman, I don’t need your permission to date.”

“Yes, you do. I won’t have you just settling for anyone. At least Malfoy had the sense not to be completely intimidated when I asked what his intentions were.”

Hermione looked up from her hands, horrified. “Please, Dad, tell me you are teasing me. You did not grill Malfoy about what he felt about me?”

Matthew folded his arms across his chest. “Of course I did. I’m not having just any toe-rag date my daughter.”

“I’m _twenty-five_.”

“So? You’re still my daughter.”

“He’ll probably never want to see me again.”

“If’s that true then he’s not worth it. But knowing my luck, he’ll be annoyingly persistent and stick around. At least he recognised your good qualities, which is more than I can say for any of your other deadbeat boyfriends.”

Hermione was saved from the mortifying reality of how her dad had embarrassed her by an owl tapping on the window. Both inhabitants of the kitchen recognised the regal owl that’d visited all those months ago. 

Matthew groaned. “I knew he would prove to be difficult to chase off.”

She shot her father a repressive look. No wonder none of her previous boyfriends had worked out if this was how he behaved himself around them. 

She got up and opened up the window to let the owl in. It was less scornful this time. He’d possibly been told some good things about her. Or maybe it was the absence of Pigwidgeon. She couldn’t imagine the Malfoy owl being impressed by Ron’s little ragamuffin pet. He dropped the parcel he was holding before consenting to be stroked briefly. Maybe the owl could behave normally if none of the other Malfoy owls were around to see such undignified behaviour. 

Hermione brought the package towards the table and sat down before opening it. She gasped as the paper unravelled to reveal De Montfort’s book. A piece of parchment floated to the floor unnoticed, as she was too busy lovingly stroking the book. 

Matthew rolled his eyes and bent down to pick up the letter. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out who had sent the parcel. He had to give the Malfoy boy credit - he knew what made his daughter tick.

He gave it a quick read before getting her attention so he could pass it over. He couldn’t help but scowl as he did so. 

_Hermione,_

_I wanted to give you this book as a token of how much I enjoyed myself last night, especially the last part._

_Maybe you would like to go out on Tuesday night? Potter and I were planning on going to the cinema, and as he’s bringing Daphne along, I wondered if you wanted to accompany me._

_Draco._

Hermione sighed slightly as she re-read the letter. She’d had thought that she was going to have to be the one to ask Malfoy out. So far, she’d had to make most of the moves between them. 

Okay, that was maybe because Malfoy was probably scared of her hexing him, but that didn’t upset her. She liked the fact that he had a healthy respect for her anger and cursing abilities. Self-preservation had always been a Malfoy trait, after all.

She put the letter down and opened the book up. She was glad that she had nothing planned today, because if she had, then it would have had to be cancelled in order for her to sit and read. Her disappearing between the pages also had the added benefit of getting her dad to give up trying to grill her about her love-life.

\---------

Draco was a little nervous as he waited outside the cinema. Harry had taken one look at his anxious face, laughed at him, and gone off to buy the tickets for the film.

Daphne was proving more sympathetic. “Why are you so worried?” she asked the pacing blond.

“I haven’t seen Hermione since the party when she kissed me when I escorted her home.”

Daphne looked excited and clapped her hands. “Ooh! I never thought Hermione would go so far as to kiss you, let alone twice.”

He rolled his eyes at his friend’s melodramatic reaction. But he did think the same thing. When this curse had been revealed, he hadn’t imagined that Hermione would ever soften enough towards him to allow herself to get so close to his lips. 

“But now I’m worried that she might be freaking out. Last time she kissed me, she avoided me for days.”

Daphne looked behind him and smiled. “I don’t think you have to worry about Hermione avoiding you. She’s on her way now.”

He turned and took in the jaunty way in which Hermione was walking towards them. She looked happy and peaceful, and he was struck by the fact that he hadn’t seen her that way since their early school years. At that point in his life, the sight of a smiling Hermione Granger hadn’t given him any pleasure. In fact, he had tried his hardest to stamp any happiness out of her. He scowled at the thought. No wonder she’d hated him for so long. He really had been a nasty little prick to her. 

“Hello,” Hermione said brightly as she reached Draco and Daphne. “Where’s Harry?” she asked, looking around. 

“He’s off buying the tickets for the film,” Daphne replied.

“What are we seeing?”

Daphne groaned. “I tried to lobby for a nice comedy but it was two against one, and these two oafs wanted to watch the latest horror movie. The poster suggests that it’s full of blood, guts and gore.”

Hermione’s shoulders slumped. “Trust me to be running late today of all days, then. I could have helped in forming a rebellion against such a monstrosity of a film choice.”

Draco just smirked smugly. He and Harry always made sure they co-ordinated their arrivals precisely so they could gang up against Daphne and watch whatever they wanted to. If he left it to Harry, he would give in to Daphne’s choice and they would be stuck with some sappy film.

“How come you’re running late?” he asked.

Hermione beamed. “We finally got the house-elves at the Yaxley Manor forcibly freed. We’ve been trying to make it happen for almost six months now.”

Draco and Daphne looked at each other and couldn’t help laugh. But Daphne softened it by giving Hermione a big hug. “Congratulations, Hermione, that’s great news.” 

“Yeah, laugh at me all you like but itis a big achievement.”

Harry returned at that point and they went to raid the confectionary stand for plenty of sugary treats to keep them extra-jumpy for the horror film.

\----------

Halfway through the film, Draco thought his arm was going to fall off. Hermione was clutching onto it so hard that the blood circulation was in danger of being cut off.

“You do realise that this is just make believe, don’t you?” he asked in a whisper.

She nodded but before she could reply, the villain of the film reappeared, chasing a girl in the group of teenagers before killing her in an orgy of blood. Hermione winced, let out a little whimper and hid her face in his arm. 

Draco couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“It’s not funny,” she complained, before giving him a whack. “I hate horror films and you are evil for making me watch this.”

“Hey, careful! My poor, maligned arm will need medical attention, you violent witch!”

She giggled, but then squeezed said arm even tighter as the tension in the film reached a fever pitch. She squeaked in terror as the heroine tried to escape, wearing little more than lingerie.

“You know, if you’d fought Death Eaters dressed like that, I’m sure the war would have been over a lot quicker,” he said conversationally. “I, for one, would have happily fought behind you.”

Hermione glared at the unrepentant blond. “Stop being such a pervert! Besides, it would be creepy if that had happened. Most of the Death Eaters I fought where old enough to be my father, and I was a teenager.”

There was a loud "Shush!" from the people in front of them. 

Draco glared at them and was about to start an argument when Hermione pushed his arm down and cast a updated version of the Muffliato spell that she’d modified so there was no irritating buzzing noise. It could be used safely in the cinema without annoying others. 

“True,” he said. “But that would work in Hollywood. I mean, actresses are nearly always much younger than their male leads.”

She looked at him in confusion. “Are you really starting a conversation on sexism and ageism in the film industry whilst we are in the cinema?

He shrugged. “To be honest, this film is a little boring, and the fact that the male lead is in his early forties, meant to be playing a guy in his early twenties, and wooing a female lead barely out of her teens got me thinking about it all.”

Hermione blinked at this different side to Draco Malfoy. She’d never have pegged him as someone who got annoyed by rampant sexism. 

“Are you just trying to make me like you more?” she asked.

“You like me?”

She waved his question away. “That’s not important right now.”

“I beg to differ. If you like me then it gives me hope,” he said with a wink.

She stared at him for a moment before slightly shaking her hands as if she was swatting something irritating away. “You get annoyed by discrimination?” she asked.

“Yes, but that shouldn’t surprise you too much. I am a reformed Death Eater. Once you realise how ridiculous blood supremacy is it makes you realise how wrong all forms of discrimination are.”

She continued to look at him as if he’d suddenly spouted two heads.

“I am more than just a blond bimbo. I know my good looks are distracting, but I do possess a pretty decent brain, and you should learn to look beyond looks,” he teased.

She spluttered a little at him before huffing and whacking him on the arm again. 

He rubbed the sore spot. “My poor arm.”

“Stop being such a drama queen,” she scolded him. 

He just smiled down at the Gryffindor and clasped her hand firmly with his. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the big scary monsters,” he said, gesturing to the screen. 

Hermione looked back towards the film just in time for someone to lose their head. She cowered as limbs went flying in a shower of blood as the heartless blond next to her laughed at her reaction.

\--------

Dinner after the film was a laughter filled event. Hermione hadn’t seen Harry this relaxed in a long while, and she was pleased that he was so happy with Daphne. She still felt sad that her inflexible and destructive behaviour before had led to him hiding his relationship for so long. He was lucky that Daphne was so patient with him. Not many girls would have put up with his cowardly behaviour in confronting her about her Slytherin problem.

As they walked through Trafalgar Square, heading back towards Charing Cross Road, Harry linked his arm through Hermione’s. 

“I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time,” he said.

“That’s because I am happy,” she replied simply.

Harry leant down and pecked her on the cheek. “He’s good for you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“He relaxes you. You’ve been so tense for so long, and Ron and I can never get you sit down and enjoy yourself.”

“And you think Malfoy does?”

“He got you to enjoy yourself at the Christmas party, and tonight you’ve not worn your serious look once.”

Hermione thought about this. Maybe she needed to rethink things. Harry was right; she did enjoy spending her time with Malfoy. He teased her mercilessly but it had none of the spiteful undertones that it had held at Hogwarts. Instead, it was pretty affectionate. He teased everyone, but with her, it held extra warmth. Had Narcissa been right? Had he had feelings for her for a long time? And what did that mean for her? The conversation with her mother on Saturday night had opened her eyes a little. She had accepted her crush on Malfoy - she couldn’t keep hiding from it anyway - especially when her body kept betraying her, and making her do things like jump him. Would it be so bad just to let go and see where things took her? Probably not. She was twenty-five, she had to start living soon, and even if it was Draco Malfoy, none of her friends or family would have a problem with it. 

“I like to think I’m good for him too,” she replied.

Harry smiled. “Without a doubt.”

They all split up when they reached the Leaky Cauldron and re-entered the magical world. Harry and Daphne Apparated back to Harry’s flat. Even though Hermione lived in Muggle London, and could have gone back to Paddington via bus from the restaurant, she’d preferred to walk back to Charing Cross Road and Apparate into her flat. She had also taken a decision during the walk to go for it with Draco. 

“Would you like to come back to mine for coffee?” she asked.

Malfoy grinned down at her. “Is that so I know where you live for future occasions when you get sloshed off those Slytherin’s Revenges?” 

“Yes, and also because it would be nice to spend some time just the two of us.”

Malfoy wrapped his hand securely around Hermione’s forearm. “Lead on, my lady,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “You are so cheesy at times.”

“But you know you love it, Kitten.”

She Apparated them into the front room of her flat, suddenly nervous about what Malfoy would think about it. He looked around briefly, before going straight to the bookshelves she kept in that room, and looking through her collection. 

“Tea or coffee?” she asked.

“Tea, I guess. I have to be at work tomorrow.”

“You can’t go in late? I thought you were the boss,” she remarked.

He looked at her. “I work with Severus. Do you remember how tolerant he was of tardiness at Hogwarts?”

Hermione laughed. “I thought he was your employee?”

“It’s Severus. I don’t think he’s ever been anyone’s employee. He honours you with his agreement to work for your organisation.”

She snorted before making tea in the kitchen. When she returned, Malfoy had several books out on the coffee table and was looking through them. 

“Where did you get hold of these?” he asked her without looking up.

Hermione smirked. “Being a famous war hero has some perks.”

He raised his head and took in her smug expression. “I thought the only known copies were in Mathilda Bagshot’s collection?”

“They were. But, as you know, she was killed during the war. She didn’t have any relatives and when the Ministry went through her collection, they offered me a first look at her library before it went on general sale.”

Malfoy laughed. “I thought you were all about the greater good, Kitten. It sounds as if you used your reputation to your advantage.”

She grinned cheekily. “It was for the greater good: the proceeds of the sale went to fund the rebuilding of Hogwarts.”

“You are more Slytherin than you realise.”

A few months ago, Hermione would have blown her top at that, but now recognised it as a compliment coming from a former Slytherin. She sipped her tea as he continued flicking through the books. 

“You can borrow them if you want,” she said.

“Really?” he said. “You’d let these out of your house?”

Hermione shrugged. “It’s not as if I’m lending them to Ron. I know you treasure books as much as I do, and Malfoy Manor has probably the best library conditions outside of Hogwarts.”

“Thanks, Hermione. But how about I just come here to read them?”

She looked at him suspiciously. “Is that so you can come back and bug me?” 

“Pretty much.”

She shook her head at his incorrigibility. “You better take them with you, then.”

Quick as a flash, Malfoy had carefully replaced the books on the table and tipped her back on the sofa and loomed over her. Before her counselling, this would have freaked her out, making her feel trapped and out of control. Now the anticipation of his kiss was causing butterflies to flutter crazily around her tummy.

“But how could I do this if I’m not here?” he said before bending his head to kiss her.

Hermione sighed into his kiss, and looped her hands around his neck, spearing her fingers into his hair. She opened her mouth as he nibbled enquiringly on her lower lip. She really did love kissing Malfoy. He moved on down her neck and she gasped and arched into him as he found a sensitive point just below her earlobe. He ran his fingers down her back and moulded her to his body. 

“Malfoy,” she moaned as he sucked her earlobe into his mouth.

He stopped and pulled his head away. “Really, Hermione! Do you know how off-putting that is?”

She looked at him, confused. “What?” she asked, put out that he had stopped. 

Then doubts then came crowding in. Had she done something really awful? The paralysing thought that she’d completely put him off her made her numb.

“It’s as if the nightmare I had of McGonagall back in our fifth-year has come true.”

Hermione just blinked at him, wondering why he was wittering on about McGonagall and fifth year when he could be kissing her. 

“She gave me a detention and then made me sleep with her - and she moaned ‘Malfoy’ just like you did then,” he said with a shudder.

“You had a sex dream about Minerva McGonagall?”

“No!” Malfoy exclaimed. “I said I had a nightmare.”

“I can’t wait to tell her that you had a crush on her,” she said teasingly, trying to stifle her laugher and failing.

Malfoy looked down at her in horror. “Don’t you dare!”

“How are you going to stop me?” 

He looked at her briefly as if sizing up her weakness. He then ran his fingers down her sides until reaching her waist and tickling her mercilessly. She managed to bear this for about five minutes, but then she couldn’t breathe, and her stomach hurt from all the laughing. 

“Stop!” she cried. 

He relented. “So, who are you going to tell?”

Hermione, stubborn as always, couldn’t let him get away with this behaviour. “Minerva,” she said.

“Wrong answer,” he replied, starting to tickle her again.

“Okay, okay, I won’t tell anyone!”

“Good,” he said smugly, bracing himself on his forearms as he watched her recover her breath.

“That was mean, Malfoy,” she said complainingly once she’d got her breathing back under control. 

“Not as mean as planning on telling McGonagall my nightmares.”

“You would’ve been embarrassed for a moment, but I almost died from suffocation.”

“Now who’s being over dramatic?”

“I think I need a kiss to make me feel better.”

He smirked down at her. “That can be arranged, but only if you promise to moan Draco, and not Malfoy.”

“That can be arranged but only if you make the kiss very, very good,” she said mockingly.

Malfoy had never been one to shy away from a challenge like that.


	24. Chapter 24

Hermione was humming as she entered the office the next morning, despite the minimal sleep she had managed to get. Malfoy hadn’t left her flat last night until the early hours of the morning. 

She’d managed to control herself and not invite him into her bed, but they had enjoyed kissing and whispering to each other for hours. She’d finally booted him out when she realised just how late it was. He’d tried pouting and using puppy dog eyes on her but she’d remained firm. Whilst she might be living in the moment with him, she wasn’t quite prepared for things to go that quickly. She’d then been too wound up to sleep easily afterwards. Her normal relaxation method of reading in bed hadn’t worked so instead she’d just lain there, grinning like a lunatic into the darkness. 

Ernie looked up from the _Daily Prophet_ he was reading with his morning coffee. 

“You look happy today,” he remarked.

“Yep, I am,” she replied cheerfully.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why do I get the feeling that this good mood isn’t purely about the Yaxley result yesterday?”

She just grinned in response. 

“Stop it!” Ernie complained. “It’s freaky seeing you like this.”

She laughed at him. “That’s nice. Do you want me to go stomping around, scowling at everything?”

“Yes. That would be more normal.”

Hermione threw a scrunched-up piece of parchment at her colleague’s head. “That’s mean! I’m allowed to be happy.”

“I guess, but I spoke to Hannah yesterday and I know the curse hasn’t been broken. I thought you’d be angry and upset.”

“Not everything revolves around the curse,” she responded airily before digging into her in-tray.

Ernie looked at her suspiciously; something was going on and the Gryffindor wasn’t sharing. He may have been a Hufflepuff, but he wasn’t stupid. Hannah had also shared with him about the night Hermione had got plastered with Malfoy. Now the curse was back, he would have expected her to be rampaging around the office, raging about curses and Slytherins. But there she was, just humming happily.

\--------

Draco wandered into the Auror office and snorted as he saw Harry, Ron, Adrian and Robert were sitting around playing Exploding Snap.

“Don’t you guys ever do any work?” he asked.

“I could say the same about you. You spend half your life in here,” Adrian replied.

“Some of us are important and have meetings with the Minister.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, we all know how important the Malfoys are, Draco.”

Draco didn’t bother answering. Instead he strolled over and perched on the edge of Harry’s desk and rifled through his in-tray. 

“Hey, stop that!” Harry protested.

“You don’t think I come here to see you, do you? I need to know the latest gossip. How can I blackmail my competitors if I don’t know what misdemeanours they are committing?”

“Please tell me that you are joking.”

Draco looked up from a juicy communiqué he was reading about the CEO of a rival potions company. “If that makes you happy.”

Harry looked helplessly towards Adrian, who just shrugged his shoulders, looking amused. 

“Slytherins,” Harry muttered before ignoring whatever liberties Draco was taking. He didn’t feel up to facing that fight today. He just hoped that whatever Draco was up to, it wouldn’t come back to bite him on the arse.

Adrian looked at the blond who was busy making duplicates of documents on Harry’s desk. He narrowed his eyes. His friend looked happy – almost Hufflepuff happy. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Draco and Granger were getting on a lot better. He’d turned up with the bushy-haired maniac at the Christmas party and proceeded to dance with her for long periods of the evening. 

“What’s got you looking like the cat that’s got the cream?” Adrian asked. 

Draco pushed Harry’s in-tray away. Sadly there had only been a couple of documents of use, but they would be helpful in securing a large contract that he was currently chasing. 

“Nothing,” Draco said with a smug smirk.

“Did you and Hermione do anything after we left last night?” Harry asked.

“I knew the little Gryffindor was involved somewhere,” Adrian remarked.

Draco ignored his housemate. “We just had some tea.”

“Where?” Harry asked. “The only places open at that time down in Diagon Alley are restaurants and the Leaky Cauldron.”

Draco glared at the nosy Boy-Who-Lived. “She invited me back to her flat,” he said reluctantly. 

“Ooh, got lucky did you?” Adrian asked teasingly.

“That’s none of your business.”

“That’s a no then,” Adrian replied, unrepentant. 

Draco stood up and shook his robes. “Well, now that I’ve got what I came for, I’m going to say goodbye to you losers.”

“Stay for lunch,” Harry said.

“I can’t. I have a more alluring prospect lined up.”

Ron groaned. “Ugh, you and Hermione are actually seeing each other now, aren’t you? She was revoltingly cheerful when I bumped into her in the foyer earlier.”

Draco didn’t bother to respond. He was halfway out the door and he didn’t see the point in sharing that much information with the Aurors. Adrian would get far too much entertainment out of it. 

Ron looked at Harry. “They’re dating, aren’t they?”

Harry just smiled. “I think they might just be kissing, but I don’t think it will be long until they are an official couple.” 

“This is going to be unbearable,” Ron moaned.

“I thought you wanted Hermione to be happy,” Harry said.

“I do, but not with Malfoy. Those two should be kept apart for a reason. Can you imagine what life will be like if they get together? No-one will ever be able to win an argument with either of them.”

“And if you do, Granger will put her brains together with Draco’s deviousness to come up with the perfect way to murder you for revenge,” Adrian remarked off-hand. 

Ron put his head in hands and groaned again. Harry just laughed at them all. “Well I’ve never seen Hermione happier so I’m all for it.”

“You always were suicidal,” Adrian said.

\--------

Draco walked into Hermione’s office whistling. He stopped as he realised that she wasn’t there and looked around. Someone who he vaguely remembered from Hogwarts was sitting at the other desk in the office and stared at him.

“Not you as well,” the familiar former schoolmate muttered.

He frowned at him. He knew the other guy had been in Hufflepuff but that was it. No name sprang up. Then he noticed a memo sitting on Hermione’s desk addressed to the House-Elf Division and two names, one of which was Hermione’s. Ernie Macmillan – that was his name! 

“Hello, Macmillan. Is Hermione around?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, she’ll be back in a minute. She was just called in to see the big boss.”

He sat down behind her desk. “I’ll just wait for her here then, if it’s okay with you.”

Ernie tried not to gawp at the blond Slytherin. Back when he knew Draco Malfoy he didn’t ask your permission for anything. If he wanted something he just took it. 

“So, you must be really chuffed about the whole Yaxley estate thing,” Malfoy said conversationally.

This was just getting plain weird for Ernie. First, Hermione had been happy when he’d been prepared for a raging harpy and now Malfoy was making polite conversation. “Er… yes.” 

“Good thing, really. Irma Yaxley was never one to change her ways. Those house-elves weren’t going to be freed on principle.”

“Yeah, Hermione thought that too. She’s been working on this for ages. She was so thrilled when we got the result back from the Wizengamot yesterday.”

“Sounds like Hermione,” Malfoy said fondly.

Ernie just gulped and prayed that Hermione would get back from her meeting really quickly. He wasn’t sure how much more of this Malfoy he could cope with. 

As if answering his prayers, the door opened and Hermione walked through looking a lot less happy. Ernie understood why when their boss followed at her heels. 

“Now, Hermione, I understand what you are saying but that is just not feasible,” Drystan Jones said.

“But I was talking to Michael and he said that you gave them a budget increase to help further the Werewolf negotiations.”

“Hermione, you have to understand that some projects need a little extra funding.”

“But we did so well with the Yaxley estate and I know of at least two more cases that need exactly the same action.”

“Yes, but you’ll have to wait for next year’s budget. The money is not available now.”

“What you mean is that it isn’t available to house-elves,” Hermione said mutinously. 

Draco saw that she was getting increasingly angry and was about to alienate her boss entirely. Lucky for her, he knew Drystan well. He wasn’t a particularly pleasant fellow, but as he’d followed his father around the Ministry from a young age, hobnobbing with the Heads of various departments, he’d known Drystan for years and the Head of the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures respected the Malfoy name. 

“Hello, Drystan. It’s been a while,” he said.

Drystan turned and saw Draco sitting behind Hermione’s desk. “Draco! What are you doing all the way down here? You should have come straight to my office.” 

He stood up and came to stand next to Hermione and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Oh, I didn’t come to visit you today. I’m here to take my girlfriend out for lunch to congratulate her spectacular victory yesterday.” 

Hermione had tensed up when Malfoy had put his arms around her. The last thing she needed right now was for her boss to think that she had personal visitors popping in and out of the office all the day. 

“Oh, you are dating Hermione?” Drystan asked, practically insulting in his surprise. 

She narrowed her eyes. 

Malfoy kissed the top of her head. “Yes, we went to school together,” he said, as if that explained anything, which it plainly didn’t. Everyone knew that the Malfoys had been supporters of Voldemort, whilst Hermione was best friend to Harry Potter. 

“Hmm… yes,” her boss said, obviously not wanting to rock the boat by pointing this out.

“I’m so pleased she managed to free those house-elves at the Yaxley estate. Irma would never have backed down. It’s important that we try to work against views such as hers if we are to have a harmonious community.”

Drystan hummed and ah-ed again. Draco pushed his point home. “In fact, the Malfoy house-elves were freed early on because we knew it was an important concession in the changing of old, dangerous attitudes towards wizard and blood superiority.”

The older man looked conflicted. It was obvious from his previous attitude that he didn’t consider the welfare of house-elves to be important but it was equally clear that he didn’t want to alienate one of the wealthiest pure-blood families, or seem to be supporting unpopular views.

“Well, Hermione, I’ll go over the figures again and see if I can rustle up any money for you.”

Hermione was angry and upset by the time Drystan left. Malfoy had just come in and undermined her authority in her own office! 

“What were you thinking?” she asked, wriggling out from under his arm. 

“What? I helped you get the money you needed,” he said, surprised at her hostile tone.

“No, you came in, took over and practically threatened my boss into getting me that money.”

“But isn’t the important thing getting the money?”

“No, I don’t want to have to go down the ‘old-boy’ route in order to gain funding. I want him to give us the money because that’s what he’s meant to do as head of the department.”

“But, Kitten, I know Drystan of old, he doesn’t work that way, which is why you are probably based in this crummy old office.”

Hermione felt hurt at that. She knew that if she bowed to flattering Drystan and invited Harry Potter to his stupid departmental parties, she and Ernie would get much better treatment, but she refused to demean herself like that. 

“Don’t you ‘Kitten’ me or try and charm your way out of this. I don’t want people interfering in my workplace. I don’t let Harry do it when he tries and you are no exception. I’m perfectly capable of sorting myself out. I’m not some helpless female who needs to lean on a man.”

“I wasn’t trying to do that. I was trying to use my connection with Drystan to help you out.”

“Well it feels as if you’ve waltzed in here and completely undermined my authority,” she replied.

Malfoy walked over to her and looked intensely into her eyes. “I didn’t mean to do that, Hermione. I know you are more than capable of getting what you want. I just wanted to save you some stress, especially when we are working on this curse.”

She deflated a little. She still wasn’t very happy with the blond but his intentions had been good. He just didn’t know any other way. He was a Malfoy and a Slytherin, after all. 

“Okay, I forgive you, but don’t even think of intervening again,” she warned.

He smiled. “Warning taken. I don’t want to be on the end of any more of your hexes. I much prefer your kisses.”

Hermione blushed bright red as Ernie’s eyebrow rose at that. He had been avidly watching the exchange, finding the insight that it gave into the pair fascinating. Hannah wouldn’t have the only gossip next time they met up.

\-------

Once they’d settled themselves at the table and the waitress had taken their orders, Hermione decided to broach the subject of them. Malfoy had referred to her as his girlfriend in front of her boss, but had he just said that so Drystan would take her more seriously? She wanted clarification before she tackled the more complicated situation of the curse.

“Malfoy?” Hermione started.

“Draco,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“We went over this last night. You’re calling me Draco from now on. Remember: kisses and you calling me Malfoy don’t go well together.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I forgot,” she said. “Draco, did you mean what you said to Drystan?”

“What? My point about the house-elf situation needing to change in order for attitudes to move forward?” 

“No… well, yes, that’s true and I’m glad you think that way. But I was referring to when you called me your girlfriend,” she said, feeling a little embarrassed.

He smirked at her from the other side of the table. “Aren’t you my girlfriend?”

She huffed. She hated it when Draco turned the questions back on her. It was an irritating habit. “Just answer the question.”

“Yes, I meant it.”

“Oh!”

“Why? Aren’t you my girlfriend?”

“I guess. It just sounds really strange.”

Draco laughed at her. “Stranger than kissing me?” 

She recognised the truth in that. She smiled at her _boyfriend_. That was going to take some getting used to. “No, I guess not, but we’re official now.”

“Yep,” he said taking hold of her hand. “That means lots of canoodling is in order.”

“Not in public!” she chastised. 

He pouted at her. “You spoil all my fun.”

“Someone has to.”

Draco leant over the table and stole a quick kiss on the cheek. “Malfoys have trouble taking orders.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but didn’t allow herself to be pulled down his path. She wouldn’t put it past Draco to do something even more outrageous just to prove a point. He was persistent like that. 

Anyway, now she had that cleared up, she needed to tackle the more troublesome aspect of their relationship: the curse. 

“Before the meeting at the Manor on Saturday evening, I’m seeing Bill,” she told him.

“Isn’t he coming to the Manor as well?”

“Yes, but I need to see him beforehand to discuss some things.”

“Why?”

“Because I think I know how to end it.”

“What? Since when?” Draco asked.

“Since McGonagall dropped the bomb that the curse hadn’t broken.”

“You’ve kept that mighty quiet.”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” she explained. “I also wasn’t sure that I could do what the curse was asking but that’s been answered now. I’d like you to come with me to see Bill.”

Draco had never been slow. He didn’t need things explained to him before he picked up on the gist. “This involves me too,” he said slowly.

“Yes.”

“We’re the key to the curse, aren’t we?”

“I think so. I think it’s either us or George and Pansy or maybe all of us together. But the fact that Daphne and Harry didn’t break the curse made me realise that it’s probably us.”

“The enmity that once existed between us?”

“That, and the fact that we represent exactly what Rowena wanted to bring together, which makes me think it’s us.”

“Pure-blood and Muggle-born. Well, it would make sense.”

Hermione nodded. “I know, but I think it also means that we have to be in love.”

“And that’s what’s kept you quiet about this,” he stated. 

Hermione just nodded and looked down at her omelette. She felt uncomfortable revealing this to Draco. She wasn’t sure that she was in love with him just yet but she was well on her way. She hoped that whatever curse Rowena Ravenclaw had created, it would pick up on the potential of a relationship and not just the concretes. Mind you, what was concrete in a relationship? They were fluid and changing by their very nature. 

He covered her hand with his. “You don’t need to be embarrassed around me, Hermione. It’s still early between us and you have come such a huge way in such a short space of time. I’m not looking for massive declarations from you. We’ll take this slow, and if Ravenclaw doesn’t recognise this then she wasn’t the clever witch we all assumed she was.”

Hermione felt reassured by Draco’s words. She was glad that he wasn’t rushing her. She wanted to savour what they had now and didn’t feel the need to rush into something heavier. It’d had been such a long time since she had dated anyone and she wanted to enjoy the honeymoon period. 

She smiled at him. “It’s not that I can’t. In fact, I think I am, but I don’t want to push my feelings,” she explained vaguely. She didn’t even want to say the ‘l’ word. 

Draco patted her hand. “Don’t worry. I know you’re not one to just flit around with no emotion involved. And even if you were, you wouldn’t do it with me.”

She felt relieved that they’d managed to navigate that awkward conversation smoothly. She didn’t feel that she could have analysed and dissected everything quite so soon with Draco. 

“So… Bill. Where are you meeting him?” Draco asked.

“Shell Cottage. I normally travel over there at around 10AM. Can you be at mine ten to 10?”

“That sounds like a plan. By the way, have you read any of the De Montfort book?”

“Read any of it? I devoured it pretty much before I left the breakfast table the morning you sent it.”

Draco laughed at that and the rest of lunch passed light heartedly. They talked books, potions and he tried to interest Hermione in his Quidditch team. She playfully yawned and pretended to notice the time. 

“Wow, it’s that late already? I better get back to the office,” she said.

He just rolled his eyes. “I’m going to take you to their next match and you’ll love them.”

“Draco Malfoy, I’ve been friends with Ron, Harry and Ginny for many years, and all of them have failed to make me more than tepidly interest in Quidditch. Why do you think you will be any different?”

“Because I’m your boyfriend,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione laughed outright. “Have you forgotten that I dated Ron?” 

Her boyfriend paled. “Please, Hermione, don’t ever bring that up again. I’ve kissed the same lips that the Weasel has touched. Yuck! I’ve practically kissed Ronald Weasley.”

“Talk about melodramatic. And I don’t want to even think about how many girls you’ve kissed if we’re thinking along those backward lines.”

“It’s not as many as rumour would have it.”

Hermione looked amused at this. “You mean you’re not some kind of love stud?”

He grimaced. “Ugh, that sounds so horrible. No, of course not, when would I have had the time to be with all the girls I was rumoured to be seeing at Hogwarts? If I didn’t have Pansy clinging to my arm I was generally running around doing the Dark Lord’s bidding.” 

She opened her mouth but he jumped in before she could speak. “And don’t suggest I was sleeping with girls at the age of thirteen! That’s just wrong. I was a child then, more interested in Quidditch and hexing Potter.”

“But you’ve had plenty of time since leaving Hogwarts.”

“Yes, most of which has been spent rebuilding the Malfoy name and reputation. And not many girls were interested in dating me when I was considered lucky to escape Azkaban.”

Hermione couldn’t help it but she felt slightly reassured that she wasn’t dating some kind of Casanova with tons of experience. She didn’t have too much herself and it made her less self-conscious knowing that Draco didn’t have lots either. 

After lunch, he insisted on walking her to her office door. He stopped outside and leaned down for a kiss – a slow kiss that seemed to burn a path down Hermione’s spine. 

That was until the door behind her opened and she fell backwards.

“Ha! Snogging with Malfoy during work time, Hermione? How unprofessional!” Ginny exclaimed loudly right next to her ear. 

Hermione winced and rubbed her ear, feeling deafened. “Ginny? What are you doing here?”

“Checking up on you. Good thing I did, too,” the unrepentant redhead said.

“You have terrible timing,” Draco growled.

Ginny just threw him a cheeky smile. “At least I don’t go barging into bedrooms, threatening to whip bedcovers off.”

“It was an emergency!”

“And I can say this is too. I need the gossip from my girl here, so sling your hook, Malfoy. You too, Ernie,” Ginny said, unceremoniously kicking Ernie out of his own office.

“This day is officially too bizarre for me to cope with. I’m taking work home, Hermione. See you tomorrow,” Ernie said, happy to escape the madhouse that his office had become. 

“Bye,” Ginny called cheerfully before slamming the door shut in Draco’s face. She marched Hermione over to her chair, pushed her down and perched on the desk in front of her. “So, smooching with the Slytherin now, are we?” 

“You’d know all about that,” Hermione muttered defensively. 

“Mm… Blaise sure can kiss. I bet Draco is the same. I reckon they give them lessons on making a girl’s knees tremble when they are sorted into that snake pit.”

Hermione scrunched her face up. “I doubt it. Look at Goyle and Flint. I wouldn’t fancy kissing either of those trolls.”

“There’s an exception to every rule,” Ginny conceded. 

“What are you doing here anyway? Aren’t you meant to be in Holyhead?”

“Nope, we got the day off because we crushed Puddlemere United over the weekend. So, Missy, you and Draco seem pretty cosy these days,” Ginny said, undeterred by Hermione’s attempt to change the subject.

She flushed a little. “I guess we are,” she said cagily. 

“You guess? I just caught you trying to inhale his face and you only guess you might be cosy? So, how serious is it? Are you just kissing or are you actually dating?”

Hermione hated these conversations with Ginny. She always found them excruciatingly embarrassing. “We’re dating,” she mumbled.

The redhead squealed and clapped her hands. “This is so exciting! You haven’t dated for years. I can’t believe Draco Malfoy is your boyfriend.”

Hermione scowled. “We’re not in school. This is hardly that exciting.”

“It is. It’s like some torrid romance. Years of hatred turning into a steamy love-affair.”

“What _have_ you been reading?” 

“What? I get bored in Holyhead.”

“And now I’m suffering for it.”

“Stop whining and start sharing the details,” Ginny said, losing patience with her friend’s stalling.

Hermione closed her eyes and gave up on getting anymore work done that afternoon.


	25. Chapter 25

Hermione hadn’t seen Draco since that day at the Ministry. It had only been a couple of days but it felt longer. He’d sent her a few owls but had been holed up in his laboratory creating something. Although she missed him she had been pretty glad for the break. She had plenty of work to be getting on with now that Drystan had stumped up the extra cash and was grateful for the emotional breather. 

She felt overwhelmed when Draco was around her. This was the stuff that she’d read about and yearned for but now it was happening to her, she felt out of control. Mind you, it was exhilarating to feel that heady at times. But now she was sitting in her front room, waiting for him to show up. They were due at Shell Cottage in ten minutes and she’d been up at some ridiculously early hour and had already changed her outfit several times. Her logical side resented all the upheaval he was causing. She wasn’t one of those girlie girls that spent their time planning their next outfit. She was usually too busy with her head in a book. 

The whoosh of the fire managed to startle her out of her thoughts and there stood Draco, looking smug at the fact that he’d made her jump. 

“Oh, good you’re here. Shall we go?” Hermione said, struggling to regain her cool composure of a few minutes ago. 

Why did he have to look so good? It was hard enough trying to get her head around the changes her life had undertaken, without him making her heart pound every time she saw him. 

“Wait a minute,” he said, stalking towards her. “You haven’t given me my good morning kiss yet and it’s been a couple of days since I last saw you.”

She gulped a little. Of course he noticed and looked smugger than ever. However, she was a Gryffindor through and through and wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. She leaned up and gave Draco a kiss.

\--------

Bill couldn’t help but smile at the dishevelled couple that appeared out of Shell Cottage’s Floo connection.

“You’re twenty minutes late,” he said. “I was wondering if you were still coming.”

Hermione shot Draco a glare that would have slain lesser men. However, he just looked like the cat that got the cream instead. 

“Sorry about that, Bill. Something came up that delayed us,” she said, trying to smooth her hair down.

“Something came up alright,” Draco muttered.

She looked mortified and stared at her boyfriend as if she wanted to kill him. Bill had no illusions about what they’d been up to and decided to save the snarky Slytherin a blast of Hermione’s infamous temper. 

“No problem. Now you’re here do you want to move through to the kitchen? Fleur left us some brioche.”

The three of them settled themselves around the kitchen table. Like the Burrow, the kitchen was definitely the busy hub of Shell Cottage. It was lived in and welcoming. Hermione loved sitting in it. It was almost as if it brought back the happy, carefree days of her childhood. However, she pushed her nostalgia to the back of her mind and opened her bag. She removed her research and spread it across the table and took a reviving sip of coffee before launching into her explanation. 

“I think I know how to break the curse,” she said without any preamble.

Bill looked over the top of his coffee mug at Hermione. “I think I might, too. Fancy swapping ideas?”

Hermione smiled. Bill was her favourite Weasley after Ron and Ginny. He was so intellectually challenging and they fed of each other’s brains. “According to McGonagall, the curse was almost broken but Harry and Daphne didn’t fit the requirements.”

“Yes, Minerva sent me an owl outlining this.”

“So we’re on the right track - we just need to find the right couple.”

“Which would explain why you and Draco are here,” Bill said.

She laughed. “You came to this conclusion, too.”

“I’ve been mulling over it for a while now. It makes sense. A lot more sense than Harry and Daphne.”

Draco scowled. “Is there any need for me to be here? I mean, neither of you need my input.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the melodramatic blond. “You need to be here as this concerns you.”

“Are you sure it’s not George and Pansy?” Bill asked.

“Yes. I did think it could be them but I’ve been thinking about it more over the past few days. I think it has to be Draco and me. We represent the qualities that Gryffindor and Slytherin both liked in their Houses,” she explained.

“Salazar Slytherin always liked the clever and ambitious,” Draco said, preening.

“Or sneaky, devious and pure-bloods,” she pointed out.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” the blond complained.

“And of course Hermione is brave, courageous and a Muggle-born,” Bill interjected.

“So why not Pansy and George? They both have similar qualities,” Draco asked.

“Mainly due to the blood, I think. They are both pure-bloods. A union between them isn’t as controversial as one between you and I,” she said.

“True. Any children we beget would mean an end to a long line of Malfoy pure-bloods.”

Hermione paled at the thought of children. Draco knew exactly where her mind was going and decided to tease her a little. “So, Bill, could this curse need us to produce a child in order for it to end?”

She choked on her coffee. 

Bill chuckled. “Calm down, Hermione. Malfoy’s just messing with you.”

She just glared at the unrepentant former Slytherin and whacked him on the arm. 

“Watch it!” he exclaimed. “I’ve only just got rid of the last bruises you gave me.”

“It serves you right for deliberately scaring me like that.”

“I couldn’t help it, Kitten. You just looked so sickened by the thought.”

“Anyway,” Hermione said turning back to Bill, exasperated. “Do you think the idea we had of breaking the curse will have changed?”

Draco soon zoned out as Hermione and Bill started a very technical discussion about blood rites and breaking the curse. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in all the theory - he was - but they had soon lost him. Bill was an incredibly talented curse-breaker and Hermione made it her business to know as much as the experts on all topics. She could probably return to the Muggle world and set herself up as a nuclear scientist easily after just a few trips to the library. Her brain really was impressively scary at times. 

The sun breaking through the December clouds soon had him wandering outside. Shell Cottage really was a beautiful location. It was remote, as many wizard residences were. The beach was stunning. It was pristine and a fine example of the beaches that made Cornwall such a popular tourist destination for many UK surfers. He saw a lonely gravestone standing towards the side of the cottage and strolled over to see who was buried here. He suffered a shock when he realised it was Dobby.

He was filled with regret as he stood there in front of the small grave of the house-elf who had been so tormented by his family. He had been an awful child and had treated the little house-elf with zero respect, finding it amusing to make Dobby punish himself. But he’d never been so happy to see him as he had been when Dobby had Apparated into the Manor and rescued Potter, Weasley and especially Hermione. He knew the he had died at some point during the war but it was a subject that he didn’t breach with Potter, whom he knew had a huge amount of affection for the house-elf.

A small hand grasped his. “He would be proud of you,” Hermione said simply.

“Dobby?”

“Yes. He would be proud that you freed your house-elves. He loved being free,” she said with a smile.

He frowned a little. “I would too if I’d been treated the way that we treated him. He got it worse than all the other house-elves because he so obviously hated being in servitude.”

Hermione pulled Draco’s face around to her. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You have changed so much and Dobby would be the first to point this out. Your house-elves are happy and they adore you.”

“How did he die?” he asked.

She gasped. “You don’t know?”

“No. I never felt comfortable asking Harry.”

“As he Apparated out of the Manor, he got Bellatrix’s knife in his back.”

He just closed his eyes. “So we were responsible for his death too?”

Hermione just squeezed his hand and put her head on his shoulder. He needed time to grieve for parts of the war he was just discovering and she would help him. 

Draco turned away from Dobby’s grave and walked a little way to sit on one of the sand dunes. “So, what did you and Bill come up with?”

“Well we reckon that we need to just do the same ritual as before but with you and I instead.”

“Really? You guys spent all that time working that out?” 

She bit her lip and furrowed her brow. “Shut up! We also discussed a few other possibilities in case that doesn’t work.” 

Draco quirked an eyebrow at her; she had that look on her face that he loved. It was a distracted expression that he’d come to realise meant she was thinking things over. That particular look made him want to distract her but he restrained himself, realising that she wanted to work things out as much as possible before they were due at Malfoy Manor later on. They sat like that for a while before he decided that she’d done too much thinking and needed some fun. 

“Come on,” he said, dragging her up by her hand. “Let’s go for a walk along the beach.”

Hermione smiled at him. “Are you being romantic, Draco?”

“Maybe?” he said with a smirk that she automatically distrusted. And she was right to do so. As soon as he got her to the edge of the water, he picked her up and waded into the water until it was lapping around his knees.

“Don’t you dare!” she screeched.

“Dare to do what?”

“Drop me in this freezing cold sea.”

“What are you prepared to do to stop me?”

“Give you a kiss?” she asked a little hopefully.

“Please! I get those anyway now. You have to be a little more creative, Granger.”

Hermione wracked her brain for something. She couldn’t think of anything other than a strip tease but that wasn’t happening. 

“Too late,” he whispered in her ear before dropping her into the wintery sea. 

She surfaced gasping for breath. “You are in so much trouble now, Malfoy!” she screamed, her breaths coming into little shuddery gasps since she was so cold. 

Draco was just laughing at her so she ducked back under and grabbed his legs, pulling him under too.

Ten minutes later, an amused Bill watched through the kitchen window as two sopping wet and shivering people came running back up his path. 

“It’s a bit cold for a swim,” he commented.

Hermione just shot him an exasperated look. Draco on the other hand seemed to be taking full advantage of the fact that Hermione had taken off her robe and her clothes were moulding themselves to her figure. 

“Come to the Manor,” the blond said quickly before his girlfriend could strip any more clothing off in front of other men. “There are plenty of bathrooms for us to get warmed up quickly.”

He dragged her over the fireplace. “See you in a bit, Bill,” he said before throwing a handful of Floo powder into the flames and disappearing with Hermione. 

Bill shook his head at the pair. Malfoy managed to do the impossible: get Hermione to lighten up and behave like a child.

\-------

Hermione blushed at the expression on her former professor’s face. Snape’s eyebrows rose at the shivering pair who stepped out and obviously only just refrained from laughing as he took in their dirty and wet appearance. They were covered in soot that was sticking to their wet hair and clothes. He seemed to be gaining far too much entertainment from their appearance, however Draco didn’t stop long enough for anything to be said, continuing to pull her behind him.

He deposited her in the same room that she’d used before. “Towels are in the bathroom,” he said before pushing her in the direction of the shower. “I’ll get Coco to leave some warm clothes on the bed for you.”

All she could do was nod gratefully. Her teeth were shattering and she was far too cold to do anything other than jump under the warm jet of water. The English Channel was bracing in the middle of June, so you can imagine what it was like in the depths of December. 

After spending twenty minutes regaining her body temperature, Hermione padded out of the bathroom to find clothes left on her bed. She rolled her eyes when she saw what they were. There was a pair of jeans, obviously transfigured from a pair of Draco’s from the size and the same Slytherin t-shirt she’d worn during her previous time here. 

She put the jeans on. She pulled the Slytherin t-shirt over her head, knowing that Draco was trying to wind her (and probably Ron) up. She then pulled on a large pair of thick socks. There wasn’t a lot she do with her hair apart from dry it since it had curled itself into an impressive cloud around her head. 

She knocked on Draco’s door and opened it when he called her in. She wished she hadn’t when she realised he was wandering around with just jeans on. 

“Don’t you think you should warn people that you are half-naked before calling them in?”

“You call this half-naked? I’m wearing more than I would on a trip to the beach in summer. Besides, you are my girlfriend. It’s not like I just invited some random girl into my room.”

She pulled her attention away from Draco’s bare chest and wandered over to his bookcase. “You do realise that we have many of the same books, don’t you?” 

“You know what they say: Great minds think alike.”

She smiled at that but kept her gaze firmly on the books. Draco didn’t need his ego inflating any more than it already was. 

The door swung open and Narcissa popped her head in. She did a double take when she saw Hermione. “Hello, Hermione, I didn’t realise you had arrived.”

“We had an impromptu dip in the sea,” Draco explained.

The older witch looked a little perplexed at that but didn’t bother asking her son to explain any further. “Harry and Daphne are downstairs,” she informed them. “You may want to put a shirt on, Draco dear.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do but I keep on getting interrupted.”

“Don’t be grouchy. It doesn’t suit you,” she remarked to her irritated son before turning to Hermione. “Are you waiting for Draco to show you the way?”

“Yes,” Hermione said. “I get lost in this place.”

Narcissa laughed. “Yes, it does take a while to get your bearings. Come with me. I’ve set things up in the large drawing room for you all.”

Hermione followed Narcissa into a room that she hadn’t seen before. It was big and took up a large part of the front of the house. There was lots of food and beverages scattered about the various tables. 

“Thank you for the refreshments,” she said.

The blonde smiled. “Your friend Ron is coming so I thought I should have some food available.”

She chuckled at that as did Harry, who was sitting on one of the sofas with Daphne. 

“Hey Hermione,” he said before realising what she was wearing. “Why are you wearing a Slytherin t-shirt?” 

Hermione just rolled her eyes. “It’s Draco’s idea of a joke. He flung me into the sea at Shell Cottage and I needed a change of clothing.”

Harry just shook his head. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

\----------

The meeting went off well. The attendees were impressed with Hermione and Bill’s logic and once again, there was a hopeful air that the curse would be broken. Ron and Neville in particular were very keen for this to happen. Neither of them wanted to be stuck in a relationship that they didn’t want when they had non-Slytherin girlfriends. Neville had popped back briefly to see McGonagall who had given them permission to once more invade Hogwarts the next day. Hermione and Draco were going to be doing the blood rites this time.

A festive atmosphere had engulfed the room and they all sat around chatting and eating the food that Narcissa had provided. Ron’s eyes had gone very large when he had spotted how much there was. He was currently trying his best to work his way through it all.

“You give Weasleys a bad name,” George said in disgust as he watched his brother’s performance.

“What do you mean?” Ron asked thickly around a full mouthful of food.

“Ugh, Ron, do you have to do that? Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Ginny said, wiping crumbs off her arm with an unhappy expression on her face.

“You just proved my point,” George remarked.

Ron exaggeratedly chewed his food, glaring at Ginny before speaking again. “What have I done?”

“George is right. You always act like you haven’t had a meal in years and then gorge yourself as if you’re about to undertake a strenuous fast,” Ginny commented.

“I do not!”

“Narcissa did say she provided this much food because she knew you were coming,” Harry said.

Ron went bright red and huffed. He removed himself and walked over to the other side of the room far away from those criticising him. He hated it when his family picked on him and George and Ginny were the worst. 

“He’s hopeless,” Ginny remarked, watching him go. “No matter what mum does, he just fails to grasp basic table manners.”

“Are you three picking on Ron again?” Hermione asked as she came over. She hadn’t failed to spot his sulky walk away from his best friend and siblings.

“He was spraying crumbs around and generally behaving as if he hadn’t had a good meal for months,” Ginny said.

Hermione just shook her head. Ron would never change no matter how annoyed Ginny got with him. “Daphne tells me you’ve picked a date for the wedding,” she said to Harry.

Harry beamed. “Yes, we’ve gone for late March. Daphne loves spring and all the daffodils and tulips will be out.”

“Oh, it will be so beautiful,” Ginny said before beating a path to Daphne to discuss all the details.

\----------

Hermione and Draco were sprawled on opposing sofas, looking at the mess that was left in the now empty room.

“No wonder Gryffindors and Slytherins have been kept apart for so long. When they are together they leave a mess in their wake. And not one of limbs but of sandwich crusts,” Draco said. 

Hermione looked around the room. It really did resemble a bombsite. Gryffindors had always been famous for their parties and it seemed that Slytherins were of a similar mindset. She dragged herself up and wearily starting stacking plates. 

“What are you doing?” Draco asked.

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m clearing up. We can’t leave it like this.”

“Yes we can, Tufty will be marshalling the troops to clean it up in a bit.”

She huffed and continued straightening the room out. Draco just watched her and waited until she had things looking significantly better before pulling her out of the room. 

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Stay here with me tonight.”

“I don’t know, Draco. I’m not sure that is a good idea.”

“Come on,” he encouraged. “You can stay in the room you slept in last time.”

Hermione was torn. She didn’t particularly want to go home to her empty flat when she could spend more time with Draco. But she also didn’t want him to think that he would necessarily always get his way. 

“I tell you what: come upstairs and have a cup of tea and think about it,” he said persistently. 

She found herself caving, mainly because, deep down, she wanted to stay with him tonight.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last proper chapter. A short epilogue follows.

Hermione woke up with butterflies in her stomach. It took her sleepy brain a moment to catch up to her nervous system. Today was crunch day when it came to the curse. If their actions today didn’t break it then she really would be at a dead end.

Even though she and Draco were closer than ever, it didn’t mean that she wanted to have to marry him. She would much rather choose to marry him instead. And to make her feel even more pressurised, she had Neville and Ron relying on her for their future happiness. She didn’t want this attempt to break the curse to fail and have them force themselves to marry witches they didn’t love just to keep Hogwarts open. 

“Can you keep it down over there? You’re brain is practically screaming,” a sleepy voice came from behind her.

Oh, and then there was her anxiety about the fact that she had done exactly what she said she wouldn’t do and fallen into bed with Draco. 

An arm snaked its way around her waist. “Stop thinking so much. You’re going to spontaneously combust one day from all the analysing you do.”

Hermione turned round and looked at the blond she was sharing a bed with. He was deliciously rumpled in the morning and also had the funniest case of bed-head she’d ever seen. Her eyebrows rose. 

“What?” he asked self-consciously.

“It seems I’m not the only one with wild hair.”

He patted his hair down and grimaced. “I blame you for this. All that running your fingers through it and tugging on it has taken a toll.”

She snorted in disbelief. “Next you’ll tell me that my hair condition is contagious.”

Draco narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and examined her hair. “It could be. It’s obviously a bad influence on my perfect Malfoy locks.”

“You give Gilderoy Lockhart a run for his money when it comes to ego.”

“I _did_ win _Witch Weekly’s_ Most-Charming-Smile Award last year. In my profile, they obligingly glossed over my less than wholesome teenage years.”

“I think I remember that. I saw the issue at Molly’s.”

“Don’t tell me - you wrote to the editor in a massive strop and threatened to imprison them for giving the prize to a Slytherin and Draco Malfoy to boot?”

She cringed a little. His teasing wasn’t that far off the truth. She had thrown a complete hissy fit and had ranted at Harry and Ron for far too long about it. 

“Something like that,” she mumbled.

Draco grinned and rolled over on top of her. “I wish you’d been allowed to keep that Time-Turner you had in your third year.”

She frowned. “How do you know about that?”

“Harry told me. In fact, I believe he rubbed my face in that fact that he had been instrumental in that bloody Hippogriff escaping justice.”

Hermione didn’t feel in the mood to start an argument with Draco about how he’d deserved Buckbeak maiming him. Besides, it had been a scratch, and the snotty-nosed brat he’d been had made a big deal out of nothing. 

“Why would you want me to still have the Time-Turner, anyway?”

He smirked evilly. “I’d love to take a little trip to a year ago and completely freak your old self out.”

Draco then maintained his position on top of her and admired the feel of Hermione’s heaving chest against him as he listened to the ten-minute lecture she then proceeded to read him about the dangers of time travel and letting your past or future self see you. 

He murmured a meek, “Yes, Kitten,” before setting out to direct his girlfriend’s passion into a much more productive outlet.

\-------

Hermione found herself once more walking besides Draco down the stairs in Malfoy Manor for breakfast with Narcissa and Snape. This time she wasn’t feeling as humiliated, but was a little anxious.

“Your mother is going to think I’m some kind of hussy,” she whispered.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure she thinks it’s scandalous that I have my girlfriend stay the night.”

“Your girlfriend of _less than a week!_ "

“I’ve known you since we were eleven and lusted after you for nearly a decade. It’s hardly as if we met last week. Anyway, did I ever tell you that I found out about my mother and Severus when he appeared at the breakfast table one morning?” 

“Oh Merlin’s Beard - Snape!” she whimpered. 

“What about him?” 

“He’s going to be there.” 

“So?” 

“It’s just bloody weird. Here I am doing the walk of shame in front of my old professor.” 

“Snape isn’t going to care. He’s always thought Gryffindors were morally delinquent.” 

“I should sneak out and meet you at Hogwarts later. Then your mother will never know I stayed the night.” 

“You forget that Tilly scared us in the shower this morning. I’m sure she’s already told Mother that you are here.” 

Her face flamed bright red. “She’s going to tell Narcissa that we were in the shower together, isn’t she?!” 

“Don’t worry, I forbade her from doing so.” 

“Hermione, Draco, what’s taking you so long?” Narcissa called, coming out of the sun room to hunt them down. 

“We’re coming, Mother. Hermione’s just having a mini-meltdown over here,” Draco said. 

The older witch came round the corner just in time to see the pair of them standing on the staircase. Hermione was obviously very embarrassed. 

“Why?” 

“She thinks you’re going to think she’s a loose woman for staying the night.” 

If looks could kill, then Draco would currently be lying mutilated and bleeding slowly to death. 

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Hermione hissed venomously at her boyfriend. 

Narcissa just laughed. “Don’t be silly, dear. I’m not old-fashioned. Indeed, it’s lovely to have another female around the place.” 

Hermione was still glaring daggers at Draco. “I hate you for that.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you later,” he replied lecherously. 

She could only manage to whack him and walk with as much dignity as she could muster down towards his mother. 

“Don’t let Draco get you. He delights in teasing those he loves,” Narcissa said to her. 

Hermione refused to look at her blond beau as she marched into the sun room to face Snape. 

\--------

Minerva McGonagall was waiting for the group that traipsed up to the castle gates later that day. They’d decided to keep the group small. It was just Hermione, Draco and Bill. They didn’t want to keep inconveniencing the Headmistress or the rest of the Hogwarts student body. Hermione’s nerves were growing and even Draco looked anxious. He had the pinched look that he got when he was feeling pressured. It reminded Hermione of their sixth year when he had worn the look constantly. Bill, by contrast, was whistling happily, which was intensely irritating.

“Hello,” Minerva greeted them. “Is no-one else coming?”

“No, we thought the group should consist of the essential people,” Bill explained.

“Yes, that’s probably for the best.”

They walked up to the seventh floor in silence and Hermione once again found herself facing the tapestry of Barnaby the Barmy. This time there were no melancholy feelings as she was no longer confused about how she felt towards Draco. She squeezed his hand, which was tightly clasping hers. He smiled at her in reassurance.

It was strange for her to be the one this was all resting on. She was used to playing back-up to Harry. At the end of the day, she may have been crucial in getting her best friend to the final battle with Voldemort, but he was the one who had to walk that terrible journey into the Forbidden Forest to face his destiny. Obviously, breaking this curse wasn’t a life or death situation but it was important to many people and she could feel the pressure of that. 

“Breathe, woman, or you’ll pass out,” Draco whispered to her.

Hermione let out the big breath that she had been keeping trapped in her chest. Until he’d pointed it out, she hadn’t even realised it was there. Bill passed Draco the knife and he made a small cut in his palm and then offered the knife to Hermione, who took a deep breath and did the same. She stared up into his eyes as they mingled their palms and their blood together.

“Who’s a filthy little Mudblood now?” she said teasingly.

“Hush, Kitten, you’re spoiling a ceremonial moment.”

She just stuck her tongue childishly, which made him laugh at her. They turned to the wall and placed their hands against the stone. You could hear a pin drop as everyone remained quiet, waiting for what was going to happen. The flash of blue light came as a huge disappointment to them all.

“I guess that’s it then,” Draco said.

Bill frowned. “I was sure this was going to work.”

Minerva just looked anxious. The breaking of the curse would relieve her worrying about whether any of her former students would pull out or not. She hadn’t been blind when it came to her new Herbology Professor, Neville. He was head over heels in love with Hannah Abbott but yet he was going to have to marry someone else.

Hermione was quiet. She had her ‘distracted’ look back. “Wait up. I think I know what we have to do.” 

They all turned to look at her. 

“I don’t think we have to do the ritual here at all. I mean, the Room of Requirement doesn’t have much symbolic value. Very few people even knew it was there. I think the blood rite is meant to take place in the very heart of Gryffindor and Slytherin territory,” she explained.

“The common rooms,” Draco said.

“Exactly. I think we do what we’ve done in those two places and this will actually break the curse. Hmm… if we’d thought about that earlier then it might have worked with Harry and Daphne.”

“Maybe,” Bill said. “But, I think the animosity between the pair of you is what Ravenclaw was more focused on.”

“Possibly. However, it does make me wonder…”

Draco put his arm around Hermione’s shoulders, obviously worried that she was dejected about missing something. “Has anyone told you recently that you are brilliant?” he said, in an effort to cheer her up.

She smiled cheekily. “I am the Brightest Witch of Our Age.”

“Possibly Most Big-headed Witch of Our Age, too.”

“You’re one to talk!” she replied, whacking him on the arm.

“You’re too violent for your own good, as well.”

Bill just chuckled whilst Minerva stood looking confused at the antics of the two former enemies. Reconciling the Draco and Hermione who were her students with this affectionate couple was very difficult indeed. 

“So where to first?” Bill asked.

“Well as we’re up here, we might as well go to Gryffindor Tower,” Minerva said, tearing her eyes away from the squabbling pair.

Hermione felt the change in the air when she reopened the cut on her palm in the Gryffindor common room. The atmosphere pulsated with energy. She took this to be a good omen. It was also a good thing Minerva had cleared the room of all the students who had been relaxing. There had been one or two nasty glares Draco’s way but that was to be expected. As she and Draco pushed their palms again the wall, there was a blinding green flash and the heavy tension that had filled the room popped. 

“Well, that’s different, which is positive,” Bill remarked. 

“Down to the dungeons!” Draco said cheerfully.

This time it was Hermione’s turn to get the glares and someone dared hiss “Mudblood” at her as they walked past. 

Draco turned as quick as a flash and grabbed the boy who had spoken by his cloak. “Apologise!” he ordered.

“No,” the sulky Slytherin said.

The blond tightened his grip on the student’s robes. 

“Mr. Malfoy, unhand Mr. Brutus now!” Minerva exclaimed, outraged.

“Not until he apologises for calling my girlfriend a Mudblood.”

“You’re a disgrace to the name of Malfoy,” Martin Brutus snarled at him.

Draco, living up to his Malfoy nature, sneered nastily at the boy. “And you’re not fit to kiss her feet. Now apologise before I destroy your father’s business. And you know I have the power to do so.”

Hermione put her hand on his arm. “Draco, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me,” he replied without removing his gaze from the boy. 

They had a staring match until the boy seemed to read the steely intent in Draco’s eyes. “Sorry,” he muttered to Hermione.

“Ever say anything like that around me again and I’ll put you in St. Mungo’s,” Draco threatened. 

The boy sloped out, his tail firmly between his legs. 

“Remind me to stay on your good side, Malfoy,” Bill said.

Draco was still glaring at the door but he turned around and smiled at Bill. “Well, they say that the reformed are always the most adamant.”

Minerva still had her lips pursed and gave Draco a very disapproving look. “Let’s just get this over and done with before Mr. Malfoy attempts to assault any more of my students.”

“I hope you give him detention,” Draco replied, unabashed.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Malfoy, I will deal with Mr. Brutus’ behaviour when this is over and done with.”

Once the Slytherin common room was cleared, the familiar tension from Gryffindor Tower returned. Hermione and Draco cut their palms for a third time and placed them against the wall. This time there was a brilliant red flash and the overwhelming atmosphere dissipated once more. As they turned to leave, Minerva crumpled to the floor with a cry. Bill caught her in his arms and lifted her up onto the nearest sofa. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Hermione asked frantically.

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this before, even if a curse has been broken incorrectly,” Bill replied.

Hermione ran a few diagnostic spells over the unconscious Headmistress but they showed normal results. “It’s almost as if she’s gone into a deep sleep,” she remarked.

“Like a coma?” Draco asked.

“Yes and no. Her vitals are all fine and I think we just have to wait for her to wake up.”

So the three of them sat and waited. 

Thirty minutes later, Minerva finally stirred. She groggily sat up and looked around blearily. “What happened?”

“We were hoping you’d be able to tell us that,” Bill said. “You just fainted and wouldn’t wake up.”

Minerva gathered her wits about her. “It was a trance. I think Rowena engineered it so she could communicate with me.”

“This whole Ravenclaw contacting you thing has been really weird,” Draco commented.

Minerva smiled. “Yes it has, and I’m very glad that it’s finally over.”

Hermione gasped. “You mean it worked?” 

The Headmistress beamed at her. “Yes, you did it.”

Hermione high-fived Bill, hugged Minerva and then half-strangled Draco with a fierce embrace. When she let go of him, he was red in the face and choking. 

“That’s nice; you release the curse and then attempt to murder me.”

Hermione was too happy at the outcome to care about her boyfriend’s moaning. “Oh, hush and stop being such a big baby. Let’s get back to the Three Broomsticks and tell the others the good news.”

“Only if we can mess with them first,” Draco remarked.

“No, we are _not_ pretending that the curse hasn’t been lifted. That’s cruel and mean.”

“It’d be funny. Can you imagine how stressed Longbottom and Weasley will be?!”

“That’s horrible, Draco,” she said in a forbidding tone.

“You spoil all my fun.”

“This curse has a lot to answer for,” Bill whispered to Minerva. “Those two are going to be a complete nightmare together. I hope you’re still Headmistress when their kids are enrolled.”

Minerva paled at the thought.

\---------

The tension in the back room of the Three Broomsticks was palpable. All those who had been helping decipher the curse were gathered around, plus Hannah and Eve. Ron was looking pale and miserable and clutching Eve’s hand tightly. He was so nervous that he hadn’t even touched the biscuits that were sitting in the middle of the table. The same couldn’t be said of Ginny who was steadily nibbling her way through them. She was anxious and needed to keep her hands busy.

“How long did they say this was going to take?” Theo asked.

“It didn’t take very long when we did it but I guess there might have been some complications,” Daphne replied.

“Great! Complications - just what we need,” Ron murmured bitterly. 

“If anyone can do this then it’s Hermione. When has she ever failed at something like this?” Harry reassured the room.

That was the one thing that was giving them all so much hope. Hermione Granger didn’t do failure, especially when it involved research and mastering something magical. She was far too overachieving to let this beat her. They were sure of it. 

However, hearts sunk as the door swung open and a dejected Draco stumped in. He sighed. “Sorry guys, it didn’t work,” he mumbled disconsolately.

The room visibly deflated. Hannah started crying as she buried her head in Neville’s neck. Ron’s shoulders slumped and he and Tracey looked across at each other with disappointment. 

Hermione bounded in and took one look at the depressed group. “Why’s everyone so upset?” she asked.

“Draco told us what happened,” Pansy replied.

“Draco Malfoy!” she yelled. “I told you not to mess with them!”

Draco smirked evilly. “Sorry, Kitten, I couldn’t resist.”

“You are a piece of work!” she said huffily. 

“Hang on,” Harry said. “Does that mean you actually did break the curse?”

“Of course we did. She _is_ the Brightest Witch of the Age,” Draco responded.

A shower of biscuits were thrown at the blond Slytherin before the news fully sunk in and a massive cheer was raised. 

Hannah jumped up and engulfed Hermione in a massive hug. “Oh, thank you, Hermione! You are the best.”

\-----------

Hermione sat on a rock overlooking the Shrieking Shack and watched the sun set. The party was set to go on in the Three Broomsticks for a while yet. The relief that everyone was feeling at having the obligation of marrying to keep Hogwarts open had been lifted and the relief was immense. She was also incredibly pleased for Ron and Neville. Their lives really would have been unhappy if they would’ve had to leave the witches they were falling in love with to marry two other women. She really was happy that she had been instrumental in helping them avoid that.

She smiled as she thought back on the journey that she herself had taken. When this had all been revealed, she never would have thought that the curse would really be a blessing in disguise. She had been such a mess, having allowed her life to be filled with so much hate and thoughts of revenge. Instead of enjoying the peace that she had fought so hard for, she had been bitter. But thanks to the curse, she had faced her demons, got the help that she had needed and had now found happiness in the most unlikely of places. 

He put an arm around her shoulder. “So this is where you snuck off to,” Draco murmured.

“Hmm… I've always liked it up here. It’s so peaceful.”

The blond sat down onto the rock next to her. “That it is.”

“Are they still going strong?” 

“I think Madam Rosmerta is going to have to kick them out.”

She giggled. “So, how does it feel being on the side that wins for a change?” 

He poked her in the side. “Cheeky! But it is good to not have to feel compelled anymore.”

“It certainly does. Maybe something about us will run normally now.”

“Does that mean you aren’t dumping me now you don’t have to marry me or consign Hogwarts to the scrap heap of history?”

Hermione glanced at him. “I think you’re stuck with me now, Malfoy.”

He pulled her tight against him. “Good, because that’s just the way I like it.”

She rested her head on his shoulder and they sat and finished watching the sunset in silence, just enjoying each other’s company, not feeling the need to talk unnecessarily. 

Once dusk was fully enveloping them, Draco turned to her. “Do you fancy getting out of here?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, shivering. “It’s still December after all.”

“Come back to mine?” 

Hermione nodded and they Apparated back to the Manor together.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end. Thank you for reading. A massive thank you to swirlsofblack for all her hardwork in betaing this story. She really put a lot of time and effort in so feel free to thank her too.

Hermione slapped Harry’s hand away as he fiddled with his bow-tie once more and rolled her eyes at Ron, who stood next to them. 

“Harry, stop it!” she hissed. “It’s perfect and you’re going to mess it up if you continue.”

“I can’t help it,” he complained. “It feels too tight.”

“You’re just nervous, so stop fiddling and just remember how great Daphne is and how lucky you are to be marrying her today.”

Harry turned to look at everyone staring at the three of them. “This is awful,” he moaned. “I wish we had just eloped instead.”

“Get a grip, mate,” Ron whispered. “Daphne deserves to have all the pomp and ceremony she wants. After all, she had to put up with you hiding her for years.”

“Besides, if you make a run for it now then Ron and I will officially be the worse Best People ever.”

Hermione giggled slightly as she remembered how shocked some people had been when Harry had announced that he wanted his Best Men to be Hermione and Ron. Many of the older generation had expected her to be included in Daphne’s wedding train, but, although she loved Daphne, it would have felt strange not to be standing by Harry’s side. She and Ron had always been next to him through all the important parts of his life and his wedding was no exception. So they had ignored tradition and Hermione and Ron were officially Harry’s Best People. 

Harry and Daphne had originally set a spring wedding because of the time limit of the curse, but the date had been changed once it had been broken and here they were on a beautiful July day by the Black Lake at Hogwarts. Minerva had been touched when Harry and Daphne had asked for her permission to marry there. It had been Harry’s first real home and the curse that had hung over it had been a catalyst in his and Daphne’s relationship becoming public. The Hogwarts grounds were also big enough to hold all the guests that had to be invited to the wedding of Harry Potter. 

The music started and the murmuring of the guests came to a halt as the anticipation of the bride’s appearance became real. Hermione laughed once more as shocked mutterings went around the guests as Draco glided down the aisle as Daphne’s Man of Honour. After the shock of Hermione’s position as one Harry’s Best People had caused, the wedding party had decided to keep Draco’s role quiet. It would be amusing to see how scandalised the guests would be. 

Daphne had tried to co-ordinate Draco with her bridesmaids but he had flat-out refused to wear any pastel colours. She’d managed to get him to at least wear a tie of the same colour as the rest of the bridesmaid dresses. 

The rest of the wedding march went smoothly as Astoria, Daphne’s younger sister, Tracey and Pansy followed after Draco. Then there was an awed hush as Daphne appeared on the arm of her father. Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears as she saw how beautiful she looked. Harry just had his mouth open as he took in his beautiful bride. 

The ceremony went smoothly, although Hermione did finger her wand at the bit where someone could object to the union. Not that she expected anyone to do so, but it wouldn’t be Harry’s life if there was no drama. But luckily, she didn’t have to hex anyone and soon Harry and Daphne were being introduced to the guests as Mr. and Mrs. Potter. 

As they walked back down the aisle, Hermione held her arm out for Draco to put his hand through. He looked at her repressively and held his arm out for her instead. 

“I’m the Best Person,” she objected.

“Don’t push your luck. Besides, Cormac McLaggen is here and he’s been eyeing you up. I want to make sure he takes note of your left hand.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. When would all the men in her life realise that Cormac McLaggen was nothing but a pain in her arse? She’d never had a thing for him and never would. He was the one who persisted in having a crush on her. But she did smirk evilly as she followed the pushy Falmouth Keeper’s eyes as they rested on the large engagement ring that now rested on her finger.

Draco had proposed to her last month. Narcissa had been pushing for them to make their relationship more official and permanent but they had resisted until they’d made it to six months. Then they both realised how ridiculous it was not to get engaged. They weren’t young kids who were likely to regret such a decision and they knew each other inside out. So they’d gotten engaged but hadn’t yet set a date for the wedding. They had loosely spoken about next summer and it would obviously be held at the Manor but they felt like teasing Narcissa and Rachel who were on constant tenterhooks, waiting for the announcement.

\-------

The wedding party was in full swing when Hermione realised that Draco had gone missing. Where was he? She had been dancing with Blaise, Bill and Theo while he was chatting to Pansy and George but she hadn’t seen him since. She was beginning to search the room for her missing fiancé when Ginny came over.

“I’ve got a message from Draco. Something about some rare potions book he’s come across in the library. He wants you to see it and then try and persuade Minerva to sell it to him.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. This was typical of Draco. They were meant to be enjoying a wedding and instead he was perusing the Hogwarts library shelves to see if he could acquire any of the rarer volumes. She highly doubted that Minerva would be keen to sell any of her stock.

She walked along the corridor to the library and pulled the doors open. 

“Draco?” she called, unable to see him in the gloomy light.

She whirled round as the door clicked shut with a locking spell. She heard footsteps from behind her and turned around to see Draco leaning against one of the stacks, whirling his wand in one hand. Her eyes roamed down him to see that he was decked out in a Slytherin uniform. She looked confusedly at him and then gasped as he swished his wand and all of a sudden she was clothed in Gryffindor colours.

He stalked towards her and pinned her up against the books. “I thought I’d give you an opportunity to realise that fantasy you had of me in the library,” he breathed in her ear before swooping in for the kill.


End file.
